Forsaken
by Desperate Derelict
Summary: If life was fair, her team would be here, not scattered and wrecked and destroyed. If life was fair, she'd be dead, and those she loved would be alive and well. AU Spring of Season 6 before Veritas. WARNING: TISSUES NEEDED AT END
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Okay, you caught me! I AM the one that actually owns Castle, all the characters, and everything associated with the show…..in my dreams.

**Author's Note**: _I tried a couple of funny stories (please try them)!, and received only moderate (yet greatly appreciated) support. Thought I'd try the Tragedy route, since that appears to be so popular here. I will stop when we get to 5 tissues or I've killed off all the main characters, whichever comes first_. **WARNING: CHARACTER DEATHS POSSIBLE **

**Thursday 9:58 am**

**NYPD 3rd Precinct Conference Room**

Beckett sighed, and checked the big watch on her wrist. It was only two minutes before ten in the morning, on this endless day in this endless week. Maybe 3 hours sleep in the last 3 days. Only Thursday morning, and this had already been the longest and worst week of her professional life, including the week she both lost her Captain and had been shot by a sniper. A week surely to get worse in about two minutes. However, it was nothing she didn't deserve. If life was fair, her team would be here, not scattered and wrecked and destroyed. If life was fair, she'd be dead, and those she loved would be alive and well.

She stared at the little microphone immediately in front of her on the small table. It was too much effort to lift her head, so she just stared at it. It was identical to the microphone she'd seen countless times in the interrogation rooms at the precinct. She started counting the little holes in the microphone head. The sounds of chairs sliding and papers rustling barely penetrated her awareness as a group of people took their seats at the big table opposite her. The second chair at her little table was also taken. Beckett counted nineteen holes. All the times she'd seen these microphones, and she'd never noticed the holes before. Her vision kept blurring from unshed tears, then became uncomfortably dry, then blurred again. It was impossible to concentrate. She started recounting the holes. She wanted to be sure.

The noise from the chairs subsided. An authoritative voice began speaking. "Okay, people, let's get going. I'd like to call this meeting to order. This is an emergency review board called to assess the actions and decisions of Detective First Grade Katherine H Beckett, Badge number 41319, currently assigned as team lead for Homicide Team Alpha of the 12th Precinct. The Commissioner and Mayor both want answers, and want them now. We are to evaluate all the activity that led to yesterday's fiasco, resulting in a police detective and two civilians dead, several others injured, and a fugitive at large. After hearing the facts, we will determine if any administrative or criminal penalties should be pursued. Due to the extreme media coverage focused on the … um … fame and notoriety of the casualties, we are expected to have a recommendation ready for the Police Commissioner before adjourning."

"The commissioner has asked me to run point on this. For those who don't know me, I am Lieutenant Clifford Robinson of the Internal Affairs Division. Also on this review board are: Assistant Commissioner Allison Hayes, Chief of Detectives Theodore Cavillo, Captain Michael Melrose from the 3rd precinct, Lieutenant George Mitchell from Traffic, Lieutenant Marianne Lankin from Admin, Captain Chris Basso from Personnel, and Detective Sergeant Andrew Boling from Robbery." The big IAD Lieutenant looked around. "Did I miss anybody? Okay, good. Now, before we get started: Detective Beckett, is there anything you'd like to say to the board at this time?

Beckett never bothered lifting her head, just slowly shook her head back and forth.

The well dressed man to her left leaned forward. "Detective Beckett reserves the right to speak to the board at a later time if we deem it necessary."

Robinson frowned at the man. "I know most of the union reps from dealing with other cop's screw-ups, but I've never met you before. Are you new?"

"I, on the other hand, am fully aware of you and your reputation, Lieutenant Robinson. My name is Gary Miller, and I am a member of the New York Bar Association in good standing. I will be assisting Detective Beckett with her testimony today."

"So, Detective Beckett, a Union Rep isn't good enough for you? You need a lawyer in a thousand dollar suit to protect you?"

The lawyer's voice sharpened. "Lieutenant! It is well within Detective Beckett's purview to have any representative she desires. I am a … family friend, and am fully cognizant of the rules governing this deposition. We would appreciate it if you kept prejudicial terms and incendiary phrases to a minimum." Williams leaned back and muttered under his breath, "Arrogant prick."

Beckett lifted her head and looked at the faces arrayed against her for the first time. The only one she knew well was C.O.D. Cavillo, who'd been somewhat of a mentor to her since Montgomery's death. Mitchell and Basso were cronies of Gates, Hayes an old friend of Montgomery's, and Boling an ex-partner of Tom Demming. Right now, they all looked … ugly. She wanted, she needed, to see the faces of her family, her remaining family, not these strangers.

Robinson's smile resembled a shark's. "Fine, Counselor, whatever. If it's okay with you, we'd like Detective Beckett to walk us through this case from the beginning. No recriminations, no justifications, just the facts. Please start from the initial call-out."

Beckett gave a curt nod, and took a deep breath. She licked her dry lips, and stared at the pitcher of water and empty glass in front of her. She wanted a drink, but it wasn't worth the effort to move her leaden arms. She began to speak.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thursday 10:07 am**

**NYPD 3rd Precinct Conference Room**

Beckett began to speak in a monotone.

"We received the call Tuesday evening at 8:42 pm. A John Doe was found in an alley near a construction site down in the Warehouse District. Cause of death unknown. My partner and I arrived at the scene at 9:50."

Robinson interrupted. "Which partner, Detective? Was that Detective Esposito or Detective Ryan?"

Beckett was still staring at the empty water glass. "Neither, sir. They were both already at the scene, having arrived at 9:15 pm. I arrived with my partner, Ri…" She hadn't spoken his name yet, since yesterday's cluster fuck. Her eyes welled up in record time. She tried to take another deep breath, but it felt like a giant invisible hand was constricting her lungs, strangling her heart. A tear escaped down her cheek. "Richard Castle" she squeezed out.

"Detective Beckett, Mister Castle isn't a member of the NYPD, so he can't possibly be your _partner_. Unless you're discussing something outside of the job?" The Lieutenants' tone of voice couldn't be more snide. Beckett just stared at him, at a total loss. Everybody knew who her partner is. Was. Another tear escaped. _C'mon, Beckett, pull yourself together._

Beckett's attorney surged to his feet. "Lieutenant, allow me to educate you on ..."

"HOLD IT! Everybody just CHILL OUT!" It was the C.O.D., Ted Cavillo, looking seriously pissed off. "I'll handle this Counselor. Lieutenant, I think we need some background here for everybody's benefit. In order to make a decision about my people, you need to learn about my people." He looked over at the Personnel Captain. "Chris, could you please review Detective Beckett's team's service records for us? Just the highlights."

"Glad to, Ted." Captain Basso opened the top file. "Detective 2nd grade Javier Xavier Esposito. Exceptional military record in Special Forces. 5 years as a beat cop, 5 years in ESU, and 7 years in homicide at the 12th precinct. A cop's cop. Kind of a bad ass. Several commendations for bravery. Also a couple of 'excessive force' complaints. Sterling reviews." Basso picked up the next file. "Detective 3rd grade Kevin Patrick Ryan. Family man. IQ off the charts, and 1st in his cadet class. 3 years as a beat cop over in Brooklyn, 2 years in Narcotics down on Staten Island, and 6 plus years in homicide at the 12th. 3 separate commendations for Meritorious Conduct. Will probably have your job someday, Ted."

"He's welcome to it now."

Basso picked up a thick file. "Katherine Houghton Beckett. Almost 15 years on the job. 1st in her cadet class. Four-point-zeros across the board for every review she's ever had. One of the fastest to ever make Detective 3rd Grade. The fastest ever to make Detective 1st Grade … in the 170 year history of the department. Commendations at every level, from patrol woman to now. Stints at the 34th as a probie, at the 23rd, in vice, and for the last 8 years in homicide. A Combat Cross, three separate Citations for Valor, three more for Meritorious Conduct, a couple of awards from the feds, and one unexplained award from the Syrian Government. Spent 3 months with the feebs, and another 3 months on medical leave after being shot at Roy Montgomery's funeral. In short, the most impressive working officer currently on the NYPD. Bar none."

Basso opened another, much thinner, file. "Richard Edgar Castle. Civilian Consultant with the 12th's Homicide Alpha team. Unpaid. Mystery Novelist. For a dilettante, this is pretty impressive…a medal and two awards of Valor from the mayor's office, a Distinguished Service Award from the DIA, and something called the NIAM from the State Department. I don't read that much, but I have two grown kids who love his books."

Robinson jumped in. "I don't know how much stock I'd put in Castle's medals – he throws around his money a lot, and is close friends with the mayor. You also neglected to mention a couple of 3 month suspensions for 'disregard and disobey' handed out to Beckett and Esposito. Last but not least, those Nikki Heat books are an embarrassment to the department."

The C.O.D. stared down the IAD man. "Robinson, if you have an ounce of career self preservation, I suggest you sit there and shut the fuck up!" He looked around at the rest of the table. "Let me tell you a little about the Alpha Team at the 12th Precinct. They were all trained by Roy Montgomery. Within a year of forming the Beckett-Esposito-Ryan team, their close rate was one of the best in the city. Then, during the Tisdale investigation, Richard Castle joined the team. Since then, their solve rate doubled.

"Doubled! No one else is even close. For the last three years the commissioner and I have gone out of our way to send them the most difficult cases in Manhattan whenever we can. It doesn't matter. They find out who did it and they get enough evidence to convict. If I knew how they did it, I'd bottle and sell it.

"As of yesterday, that team doesn't exist anymore. I, for one, want to know how and why. However, this is NOT a witch hunt." He looked over at Beckett. "Detective? Detective Beckett? Kate!"

Beckett's voice wasn't much louder than a whisper. "Yes, sir?"

"I am so sorry for your loss. Losses. If you could, we'd like to hear about the Crane Case." His look of sympathy was pitiable. "Just start at your and Castle's arrival."

Beckett had to look away from the Chief of Detectives. "Yes, sir." She hated his look of concern. She deserved contempt. Loathing. Certainly not sympathy. That asshole IAD Lieutenant was easier to deal with than the C.O.D., 'cause that what she had earned. Hatred and enmity. She looked at the empty water glass again. The lawyer next to her picked up the pitcher of ice water and filled the glass. She nodded her thanks and took a sip. She cleared her throat, and began her testimony in a deadpan voice.


	3. Chapter 3

**36 hours earlier . . . ****Tuesday 9:50 pm**

**Warehouse District**

Beckett and Castle ducked under the yellow tape and started down the alley. Work lights had been set up, casting a glare over the pitted pavement and grimy brick wall. Castle spied Esposito and Ryan talking to some uniforms near a tall cyclone fence. "There are the boys." He pointed for Beckett.

Esposito shot back "Not boys, Castle. Men." He looked at Ryan, who was jacketless and wearing a sweater vest. "Well, at least one man."

Ryan smiled, nonplussed. "Hey! In case you've forgotten, I'm the one with the kid. Actually, it's one point three kids now."

Beckett practically squeeled, "Really, Kevin? That's wonderful!" She gave him a heartfelt hug. "So that's where you disappeared to today. I'm sure little Sarah Grace will be thrilled with a baby sister. Brother. Whichever."

Esposito smiled. "I'm betting on a 'whichever'."

Castle followed up Beckett's hug with a back slap and a high five. "That's terrific, Ryan. You know, they've discovered what causes kids now."

"Yeah, Castle, we kind of figured that out on our own." He looked over Beckett, in her Derek Jeter jersey, and Castle in a Yankees golf shirt. "Date night?"

"We were taking my Dad to the game tonight." She frowned at Esposito. "Don't ask! Dad decided to stay, even though the Orioles were up by 3 after 4." She stared down to the activity in the middle of the alley. "What have we got?"

Esposito answered. "Another Beckett special. What a surprise! Dispatcher got a ton of calls about ten past 8 tonight reporting loud explosions in this area." Esposito handed Beckett and Castle each a pair of latex gloves, and they started walking towards the lights. "A patrol car found the vic at 8:24. No ID, no clothes, no obvious cause of death. We have uniforms checking local dumpsters for clothes or IDs."

"Explosions? Plural?" Beckett looked around, then through the cyclone fence at the construction site on the side of the alley. "What blew up?"

At Esposito's shrug, she took two steps and squatted down next to the body. A man, fit and trim and around thirty years old, was lying on his back in the middle of the alley wearing only a pair of briefs. His one leg was twisted at an impossible angle. A trickle of dried blood could be seen coming from his ears, nose, and mouth. His eyes bugged out strangely. Long individual scratch marks covered his torso and legs. "Dr Perlmutter. Good evening. Do we have a preliminary COD?"

Permlutter looked up from the corpse. "Ahhh. Our quick Detective Beckett. And her thick batboy Mister Castle."

Castle smiled. "Permlutter, have you ever wondered why your patients refuse to speak to you?" Beckett gave him a quelling look.

"Castle, I revel in their silence. Actually, this one IS speaking to me. Unfortunately, he's not making much sense. Preliminary cause of death is blunt force trauma. Sometime in the last two hours."

"What was he hit with?" Beckett asked.

"Nothing." At Beckett's puzzled look, he explained "or I could say the whole world. His injuries are consistent with a fall from a great height. Fractured skull in multiple places, broken neck, broken vertebrae, broken ribs, broken femur. Death would have been instantaneous. I'll know more when I get him on the table."

Beckett looked up at the warehouse roof three stories above her. "A fall of 30 feet?"

"Oh, no, Detective. It would had to have been at least 3 times that to cause these injuries."

"These cuts, Doctor. Boxcutter? Postmortem? They cut his clothes off?"

"That would be my best estimate at this stage."

"Thank you, Doctor." Esposito motioned her to follow him. She looked at Castle as they stepped around the body. "Any reason someone would move a jumper?"

"My initial guess would be the fashion police. Tidy whities? Really?"

They followed Esposito halfway down the alley, where he shined his light on to the brick wall at waist level. It looks like it had been smeared with soot. Beckett swiped it with her gloved finger and sniffed. "Smells like chemical explosive. C4 maybe."

Esposito pointed with his flashlight 30 feet further down the wall. "There's a bigger one down there." They moved down to the blast mark. Pock marks dotted to wall. "That's gotta be shrapnel." Esposito flicked open his knife, and dug out a long slender piece of metal from one of the holes. "Wow. Look at that." He held it up in the light. "That's from an ATW."

Beckett sounded skeptical. "An anti-tank weapon? Can't be. There'd be a big hole in a wall, or the charred remains of a vehicle."

Esposito looked equally perplexed. "Or at least a disabled tank."

Castle broke into a grin. "That's it! It hit a tank." He grabbed Beckett's flashlight and shined it straight up, then shined it through the cyclone fence. "There. Come on." Castle started walking quickly out of the alley and up the sidewalk, all the while aiming the flashlight beam up above the cyclone fence. "It's up here."

Beckett and Esposito followed, shouting warnings. "Castle, if this is about UFO's, Inter-dimensional Armies, or Ghost Legions, I'm going to kneecap you!" "I'll hold him down for you." They rounded the top of the block, and came to a break in the fence.

Castle shined his light down on the ground. Deep tire tracks came out of the dirt and marked the pavement most of the way down the block. Castle spun on his two trailing detectives. "They disabled a tank!"

"I hate to tell you bro, but those aren't tank tracks. There are no Abrams in New York City. Gun control."

Castle was smug. "No Abrams, no Shermans, but lots of armor. You pass them every day."

The light went off for Beckett. She gave a dazzling smile. "It was an armored car! Which is why they removed the guy's uniform. They needed to delay identification as long as possible. Okay. They disabled it and trucked it out of here. But how did they get it over here?"

Castle pointed his light straight up. It caught the boom of a large construction crane directly overhead.

"I don't know, Castle. Can those things lift an armored car?"

Castle shrugged. "I don't see why not. The air conditioning unit on top of my building weighs more than they do."

"And why steal the whole truck?"

Esposito chimed in. "Maybe the thing they were stealing was really big. Or they couldn't open the back. Have you seen the inside of those things? Some of them have armored safes built into the chassis."

Beckett got concerned. "Okay. We need to move on this. There may be more guards at risk."

Castle disagreed. "Most armored car robberies are inside jobs."

Beckett shook her head vigorously. "We can't take that chance. Esposito, I need you and Ryan to ride herd out here for a while. Get every CSU body you can find out here. Get 'em out of bed if you have to. We need this entire construction area processed, especially that big crane. We need to ID those explosives. The ATF is going to go apeshit if they hear about this, so we'll try to keep it quiet as long as possible. I need uniforms to canvas up and down this street to find that truck. Every home, every business. I need all street video pulled within a one mile area. Castle and I will try to find the security company and ID that guard. Send Ryan back as soon as you can, we need to get moving on the video. I'll update Gates. Questions?"

"Nope. Got it. Good luck." Esposito turned and trotted back the way they came, already calling on his cell. Beckett retrieved her flashlight from Castle and started following the dirty tire prints down the street. They faded out after passing through the intersection. The two of them then turned and ran for the car.


	4. Chapter 4

**Tuesday 11:40 pm**

**12th Precinct**

Beckett slammed down the phone on her desk in frustration. She looked over at Castle, who was on the phone at Karpowski's desk. She heard him say. "Are you sure?...Would you check again?" He then held the receiver away from his ear, and she could hear some indistinguishable yelling from the other end of the call from all the way over at her desk. Castle moved the phone back to his face long enough to mutter "Okay, Thank you" and he hung up. He looked over at her. "People sure are grumpy at night."

"Any luck?" Stupid question. If he'd found anything she'd have heard. "I'm through my half of the list."

Castle nodded at the phone. "That was my last one. Forty-three armored car companies in Manhattan, and nothing is amiss."

Beckett grinned at her writer fiancé. "Amiss?"

"Amiss. Incorrect or inappropriate. I'm a best selling novelist, so I talk more gooder than you." He looked at Karpowski's computer screen and sighed. "I guess I could start on New Jersey."

"Maybe we are wrong about the armored car. Maybe it was something else, like an armored limousine?" Beckett smiled mischievously. "Or a Clone Wars Fighting Vehicle. "

Esposito came up the steps and entered from behind Beckett. "Stop it. You're not a Castle yet. Anyway, it definitely was an armored car." Castle got up and they gathered at Beckett's desk. Esposito continued. "There was a tech weenie at the site who was ex-Army CID. Knew his stuff." He flipped open his notebook. "The plastique wasn't C4, it was Semtex. The weapon used was probably a TOW A1. That's not a little shoulder fired LAW. That's some serious shit, needing a bad-ass recoilless rifle."

Castle asked, "Law?"

"Light Anti-tank Weapon, like an M-72. Infantry weapon."

"Well, who would have a recoilless rifle?"

"The big green machine, or the Marines. That's about it." Esposito checked his notes. "Also, some pieces of a steel-and-Kevlar weave were found at the scene. They need to test it, but he said it was consistent with a newer commercial armored vehicle, like a Brinks truck."

Beckett swore. "This just keeps getting worse. We will definitely have some alphabet agencies on our backs in the morning, not to mention some bad guys with some serious firepower. Anything from the construction site or the canvas?"

Esposito shook his head. "Not really. The canvas was a bust. We'll try it again tomorrow, but that area is pretty empty after rush hour. The construction site is in some unknown court battle, and has been shut down for a couple of weeks. No night watchman, they were relying on the fence topped with razor wire. All the perps had to do was cut and peel, and they had full access. According to the guy Ryan talked to, the owners didn't even bother taking the keys out of the crane engine. The bad guys broke the glass on the console door up top, and were ready to rock and roll. A ton of trace, so it'll take time."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. At least your Dad had a good night."

"Don't tell me!"

Esposito nodded his head. "Yankees scored 5 in the 8th. Beltran hit a 3 run dinger. Won 8 to 6."

Kate looked at Castle. "That's all your fault. They play like shit when you show up. You're not allowed to go to any more games this year."

"Beckett, they're my tickets!"

"Too bad!" Beckett looked around. "Where's Ryan?"

"Downstairs in the tech media room. We can watch three street feeds at the same time. What did you guys find?"

"A whole lot of nothing." Beckett looked disgusted. "Gates will be in early to run interference. She was also going to get us somebody from Robbery who knows all about armored car practices and procedures. Castle and I have spoken to all Manhattan security companies that are answering their phones at night, and nothing is amiss." She smiled at Espo's look. "Why don't you go down and fill in Ryan, help him out. Might as well have Ryan start a search for recoilless rifle thefts. Castle and I are going down to the morgue and see if we can hurry that ID."

"On it." Esposito turned around and went back down the steps. Castle and Beckett started for the elevator.

"Hey Castle, what are ya thinking?"

Castle shook his head. "Inconsistencies, Beckett. On the one hand, we have a well thought out and well financed heist. Great location, great execution. Being prepared to remove the guard's uniform shows true genius in detailed planning. On the other hand, we have nothing missing, which I'm sure is part of their plan. It's pissing me off that I can't figure it out."

They got on the elevator and Beckett pushed the button for the basement. "Okay. Let's run with that. How do I get the armored truck to go in the alley in the first place."

"Easiest first – buy off the driver."

"Then hit his truck with a large rocket? No way he survives that. That's a special kind of ruthlessness."

"These guys are definitely playing for keeps. Which tells me that their score must be huge."

Beckett smiled at Castle. "Okay crime novelist, tell me about the biggest and best armored car robberies."

Castle looked offended. "Hey! I'm a mystery writer. That being said, the biggest 3 armored car jobs in the US all happened in the same year oddly enough – 1997. One in LA, one in Florida, and one somewhere in the Carolinas. They were all for about 18 million, give or take. They were all inside jobs. The biggest here was the Empire back in the eighties, for about 11 million. Technically, they robbed the armory and not a car. Another inside job."

"How do you know all this stuff?"

"Research. " Castle grinned. "And wish fulfillment."

Beckett rolled her eyes as they entered the morgue lab. "Simon Templar or Alexander Mundy?"

"Beckett, it is so hot that you even know those names."

Permlutter looked up. "Mr Castle, please try not to drool on my floor."

Beckett smiled at the ME. "Doctor, do we have an ID yet?"

"No, Detective. I just put the prints into the system. I did find something you might be interested in, though."

Beckett tried to hide her impatience. You couldn't rush the prickly medical examiner. She missed Lanie, currently at some seminar that included a beach and free drinks. "Great. What did you find for us?"

"Amongst his other injuries, both his ankle joints have been shredded. I've never seen an injury similar to it. He also has a distinctive hexagonal shape in the back of his head. If you find that bolt, you have your crime scene."

Castle asked, "Dr Permlutter. We believe this victim was inside an armored car that was attacked by both a missile and an unknown amount of plastique explosive. If you'd have to guess, was he in the cab or the back?"

"Mr Castle, I'm a scientist, so therefore I don't guess. I would estimate that this man had been standing upright, and a great deal of explosive went off below and in front of him. Actually, that would explain both the ankle injuries and blunt force trauma. It would have to be a great deal of explosive to give him sufficient impetus to cause these extensive injuries."

Beckett asked, "If it was an IED, could you calculate the amount of explosive force needed."

"I doubt it. Too many variables."

Her phone rang. "Beckett. Okay. Be right there." She turned to Castle. "Ryan's found something."


	5. Chapter 5

**Wednesday 12:25 am**

**12th Precinct**

Beckett and Castle walked into the precinct's tech center, Beckett pleading "Please God tell me you guys found something."

Ryan turned around and grinned. "More than we had, less than we hoped, and way too much." He turned back to the computer terminal, and moved the mouse. "This is from about 4 blocks from the alley." On the monitor and repeated on one of the big plasma screens on the wall a busy street appeared in soft daylight. The time stamp read 19:58, and the view was positioned about 20 feet above the road. A grey armored car could be seen a block down the street. Ryan advanced the images, and the armored car seemed to leap forward 50 feet at a time. He stopped it when it filled the screen. GOTHAM CITY SECURITY SERVICE could be seen on the side, and the number 468 on both the roof and the front of the truck. Two men in uniform could be seen sitting in the cab. "This is the best shot. If you want, I can show you when it turned on to Holstein. There are no cameras within three blocks of the crime scene, and this is the only security truck I found in the area during the time window."

Beckett sighed in relief. "Great. Could you print several copies, and shoot an electronic image to Tech and see if they can clean it up." She stepped up close to the plasma TV. "Neither of these guys look like our vic. Maybe tech can ID them." She spun on her heel and stared at her fiancé. "Castle?"

"Beckett, they were one of the first ones I called. They said all trucks and crews were accounted for." Castle stepped over to look closely at the monitor. "It looks like a real Gotham City vehicle. You can see these all over the city. They're as ubiquitous as cockroaches."

Ryan looked up at Castle. "Ubiquitous? Really?"

Castle smiled. "Sure. I'm a best-selling author, remember? Oh, by the way, I used your badge number when I was making all those calls. I was only moderately rude and offensive."

"That's just great." Ryan spun back to the monitor and opened another window. The left hand plasma screen was filled with the image of a flatbed rig with a large rectangular object covered by a blue tarp. "Here's the 'less than we hoped'. This is the only decent image we have of the getaway truck. No distinguishing features on the tractor or trailer. The plates on the tractor were stolen from a pickup truck. Can't read the plates on the trailer. They disappeared near the west side highway, and what few cameras we have in the area were all down. Server crashed."

"Crap!" Beckett was used to working with old and unreliable tools, but it didn't make her job any easier. She stepped over to that plasma TV. "Ryan, can you sharpen up this image at all? These guys were in a big hurry, and that tarp doesn't look like it was secured very well. Those look like bungee cords. Very temporary."

"Sorry, Boss. Maybe the techs can do better, but that's the absolute best I can do. Why? Are you thinking they would have had to re-secure it? Unless they stopped in front of a working camera, that won't help us."

Castle answered for her. "No. She's hoping they didn't have far to go, and are still in her jurisdiction."

Beckett turned around to face her team. They'd all seen that look on her face before. It was the look of a hunter, someone comfortable and confident of her place on top of the food chain. A very feral look. "I want these guys."

Esposito chimed in. "Well, I think we might have made your chances of that a little tougher. Here's Ryan's 'Way too much'. We ran a search for missing weapons that would fit with the crime scene. We found a national guard armory break-in right here in New York last year. They must have kept it on the DL, 'cause I hadn't heard a whisper. Started reading the report – 3 trucks filled, two were driven off. Shootout left an Army Reserve MP and 2 bad guys dead. They got away with lots of goodies, including a couple of M40A1 Recoilless rifles and lots of ammo to go with it. Shaped charges filled with Semtex 10. And Beckett, enough automatic weapons and ammo for half a regiment. SAWs. Combat shotguns. Claymores. The works. Before I could finish reading, the site froze up. Tried to logon again, but Ryan's password had been revoked."

"Any ID on the bodies? Leads?"

Esposito shook his head. "I didn't get that far."

Ryan stated the obvious. "I'm pretty sure we're going to have the Feds climbing up our butts first thing tomorrow. If not sooner."

Beckett inhaled deeply and blew her breath out through pursed lips, thinking deep thoughts. "Let's take this upstairs and toss it around. I think we have some latitude here." They moved over to the elevator and boarded as a group. She put her back to the corner and looked closely at her team. Esposito showed a little fatigue around the eyes, but was still a rock. The muscle of her team. They'd need his military expertise throughout this investigation. Ryan also looked a little tired, but he'd had an emotional day. A Daddy again! As always, he looked eager and loyal. If she asked him to jump off a bridge, he wouldn't hesitate. The perfect younger brother.

Castle didn't look tired, he looked excited. Like her, finding a difficult mystery to unravel was a bona fide stimulant. He locked eyes with her. His look was full of love and trust and confidence. She flashed him her megawatt smile. As the doors opened, he asked "coffee?"

"Yes, PLEASE. That would be great." Castle veered left to the break room, the other three entered the bullpen. They could see the back of some guy sitting in Esposito's chair, his blue jeans and cowboy boots up on Espo's spotless desk. The man must have heard them, because he took his feet down, stood, and spun around.

"It's about time!"

"Hey, Bro! Welcome back! How was the honeymoon?"

Detective Tom Demming smiled in his deeply tanned and sun burnt face. Espo and he exchanged a half-hug / half-handshake embrace. "Unbelievable. If you haven't been to Hawaii, it's a must during your lifetime. I just got off a flight 8 hours ago." He turned and smiled at Beckett. "Hi, Kate."

"Hi, Tom." After a second's hesitation, she lifted her cheek to receive a quick kiss. She looked up at him. "You look good. I meant to drop you a congratulations, but I haven't got to it yet. Esposito said your wedding was great."

"How would he know? When he wasn't trying to grope a bridesmaid, he was drinking himself into oblivion. You look good too. Looks like almost-married life is agreeing with you." Demming finished the turn so he was facing Ryan, who already had his hand outstretched.

"No hugs or kisses for me. I'm a married man. And, by the way, welcome to the club." Ryan shook his hand.

"Hey, Ryan, thanks. Is there a secret handshake I should know about?"

Ryan looked shocked. "No one has taught you the handshake yet?"

Demming smiled and looked around. "Where's Castle?"

Esposito waved at the break room. "Getting coffee for the queen bee."

Demming shook his head. "You know, Kate, even after all this time I still can't believe you'd dump me for some handsome multi-millionaire!"

"I know. What was I thinking?"

Esposito looked at the Robbery Detective. "Handsome?"

Demming stepped over into Esposito's personal space, towering over the diminutive Latino. "Did I say Handsome? I meant to say tall."

Beckett tried to hide her smile, but couldn't. At Esposito's look she laughed out loud. Espo did not look happy.

"Hey … Demming." Castle arrived with two coffees, and promptly handed one to Beckett.

Demming responded, "Hey … Castle."

Ryan smiled and quipped, "When you guys say that, you both sound like Seinfeld saying 'Hello, Newman!"

Castle asked, "Well, whatever do you mean, Detective?", while Demming asked, "Say what?" Castle proffered the coffee in his hand to Demming and asked, "Coffee, Detective?"

Demming said, "I'm going to need more than one. My personal clock is all screwed up. Can you show me how that space-age contraption in there works?" Both big men started for the break room.

"Sure, c'mon. You were in Hawaii, right? I think we have a Kona blend stashed around here".

"That sounds great".

"Tell me, Demming, how was your reception? Did you go with a band or a DJ?" They disappeared into the break room.

Esposito and Ryan followed Beckett to her desk, razzing her the whole way. "Uh-oh." "That doesn't look good." "No, definitely does not look good." "Oh, well, had to happen sooner or later" "Poor Beckett." "It's the old Two Worlds Colliding Disaster." "Boom?" Boom!"

Beckett knew Esposito was trying to rile her after she laughed at the short joke. She sat in her chair, put her coffee down, looked up at her two teammates, leaned back and asked "What?"

Esposito pointed to the espresso noise. "You can't tell me that those two comparing notes doesn't worry you?"

"Why would it? Castle knows Tom and I went out a few times. It is NOT a big deal."

"Yeah. But does he know when you broke up with him?"

"What's that matter? He knows about when…." A look of concern crossed her face momentarily.

Ryan smiled at Esposito. "Boom?"

"Boom."

Demming and Castle arrived with their coffees. Castle looked around and said, "Did we miss something?"

"Nope." "No." "I don't think so." The three homicide detectives tried to look innocent.

Beckett took charge. "Let's get going. I assume, Tom, that you are our promised armored car expert from the 3rd precinct. The boys will update you on what we have so far while Castle and I update the murder board."

Demming leaned against a desk, listening to Esposito and Ryan lay out the crime scene. He watched Beckett and Castle work seamlessly together on the murder board, in some instances finishing each other's sentences silently. He started shaking his head halfway through the presentation, and was still shaking his head when Castle and Beckett put down their Magic Markers and spun around.

"Guys, what you just described is impossible. Could never happen."

"Why not?" Beckett asked.

"Because they've designed a foolproof system to prevent successful robberies. If something like you are saying happened actually did happen, there would have been a dozen cops in that alley, assuming they didn't stop the trucks earlier."

Castle cut in. "Demming, there is no such thing as a perfect system."

Tom sat down on the desk. "There is now. It's like civics class. Checks and Balances. No one person or organization has control over more than one thing. Except for a stick-up, these armored car services are theft proof."

He lifted his index finger. "First is the personnel. All robberies of armored cars fall in one of two categories: Inside jobs or smash and grabs. Everybody knows that the biggest vulnerability is from someone crooked inside. So all of the big companies, including Gotham, contract an outside agency to hire and schedule employees, especially the drivers and guards. In New York City that's the NYPD Internal Affairs Division."

"Why IAD?" Beckett asked.

"I don't know. Maybe they don't have anything better to do, or maybe they were the low bidder. Every employee is fully vetted every 18 months, and for the drivers and guards and anyone who touches the client's money it's every 6 months. That's time consuming, and IAD is used to sitting on their asses and doing computer searches. They also schedule the driver teams daily, mixing them up constantly. No driver or security guard knows who they'll be working with until they show up for work.

"Next is the pick-ups and routes. Those come directly from us at 3rd precinct Robbery Division. We get a nightly requirements sheet from every security company, and we map out the addresses and routes between them. It varies daily. If a driver takes a detour around a construction zone, or is more than half an hour off schedule, we get an alarm. At the start of day, they don't know where they're going or what they'll be picking up. Once they get their assignment, they aren't allowed to communicate with anyone outside their company. Using a cell phone is grounds for dismissal.

"The third is the companies and their armored car tracking. Some guards are assigned in house every day to the tracking room, making sure the truck and cargo are where they should be when they should be.

"Last is the armored car itself. These things are BUILT. Built to protect the drivers, the engine, and the cargo. They have an independent GPS tracking system that's better than airline black boxes. Built right into the chassis, separate power supply, and tamper proof. If it's damaged or runs out of power, an alarm goes off at the company and the 3rd precinct. We test it every year, but it's never gone off on its own."

Beckett asked, "Can you access the tracking system?"

"Sure, unless they changed the password while I was gone." He went over to Esposito's desk, clicked through a couple of NYPD menus, and started typing an ID and password. Beckett's team gathered around. Demming cautioned, "Don't look! There are two levels of passwords to get thru…and…..Ta-Da! Welcome to ACTS!"

Ryan asked "ACTS? Oh, Armored car tracking system. Can you show us what Gotham City Vehicle 468 did today?"

Demming shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. It's real time. I can show you where it is now, and it's…at Gotham headquarters right now." He pointed to a blip on an overlayed map.

"How do we find out where it's been today?"

"The black box I was telling you about keeps about 6 months worth of data. It can be downloaded by the owners, so we'd have to go to Gotham City Security."

Beckett said, "Great. Field trip!" She looked over her team. "Guys, Rick and Tom and I will go check out Gotham City Security. Why don't you go home and get a little shut eye. Tomorrow we'll widen the search for the tractor trailer if we haven't come up with anything better. Try to beat Gates in." Beckett retrieved her gun from her desk, and picked up the case file. "Oh, and Ryan? Give Jenny a big hug and congratulations from me."

They all started out of the bullpen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Wednesday 2:06 am**

**Gotham City Security Service**

As Beckett and Demming got back in the car, Castle asked from the back seat "Everything okay?"

Beckett spared a quick glance at him before putting the car in gear. "For a minute I thought we were going to have to shoot our way in." Beckett pulled the car through the front gate of the security firm, and then turned down between a couple of buildings. She pulled into a visitors parking slot almost directly in front of a pair of large glass doors. "The night supervisor's name is Kearney. We may have to finesse him."

They got out of the car and entered the lobby. Approaching them was a tall, paunchy man sporting a tan uniform complete with side arm. He smiled at them. "Detectives? I'm Bo Kearney. How can we help you this morning?"

"Mr. Kearney, I'm Detective Beckett NYPD, and this is Detective Demming, and Richard Castle. We need to talk to you about a …"

"Richard Castle? Derrick Storm?! Dude! The reason I wanted to go into law enforcement was because of Derrick Storm." He started shaking Castle's hand like he was pumping water from a well.

Beckett and Demming were standing behind Kearney smiling unabashedly. Castle was at his most gracious. "Supervisor Kearney. Can I call you Bo? Bo, call me Rick." Castle got his hand free, and threw his arm over the fat man's shoulders. "Bo, we are working on a hot case, and could really use your help. Can we go to your office? Thanks." Castle threw a long-suffering look at the detectives as if to say. 'You owe me'.

The four of them passed a lobby desk manned by a couple more tan uniforms, and down a carpeted hallway to a tiny office. They squeezed in, and Bo slid behind the small desk. "Well, Rick," obviously relishing the first name basis, "what can I help with?"

Castle peeked at Beckett and saw her microscopic head shake. "Well, Bo, something weird happened tonight. There were some explosions reported in the warehouse district, and we are having problems finding witnesses. However, someone did report one of your armored cars in the area, and we were hoping your people could shed some light on the situation."

"I'm sorry, Rick, but all of those guys are gone now. Most of them will be back tomorrow morning."

Castle smiled. "Bo, we were hoping you could verify that they were actually there in the area, before we bothered anybody. Car number 468, between eight and eight thirty."

"Well, I'm not supposed to access the historical data without my boss's permission, but I guess for you and New York's finest he won't mind." He squeezed into the chair, and started clicking his mouse. Castle saw him close half a dozen windows rapidly, thought he saw naked pictures, and regretted shaking hands with him. "Vehicle 468? At twenty hundred it was southbound on 11th. Pulled into an alley off Holstein for a drop-off at 20:04. That was their last stop of the day. At twenty-sixteen it left the alley and came back here. It's currently in the maintenance garage, arriving at 20:47."

"Bo, do you mind if we go look at it?"

"What for?"

Castle pulled out his phone, and clicked an app. A wavy line appeared on the phone, cycling regularly. "We can tell if your armored car was near a chemical explosion with this …tool." Beckett rolled her eyes and Demming tried to hide a smile.

"Oh. Sure. I've heard of those. It's about a 5 minute walk over there." They filed out of his office and re-crossed the lobby. Kearney addressed the guards. "I'm taking these guys to the barn. Call me if anything comes up." They crossed the parking lot and started around the far building.

At a look and head toss from Beckett, Demming stepped up next to Kearney and started playing the "Do you know..?" game looking for mutual acquaintances. Castle dropped back to Beckett. She hissed, "What is that?" pointing to the phone.

Castle smiled. "Mood Oscilloscope." At her look he whispered, "If you don't want to know, don't ask."

Beckett showed her frustration. "No way they pull a damaged truck in here and nobody notices. Maybe Demming is right, and we are way off base."

Castle shared her frustration. A murder investigation was like a shark: it had to continue to move forward or it would die. "No, it must be an armored car robbery. Everything else makes LESS sense."

They came to a fire door and entered an enormous garage area. Armored cars, interspersed with other personal vehicles, were lined up in 3 aisles the width of the building. They walked down the left hand aisle, slowing about a third of the way down. Kearney started looking around, perplexed. "They must have moved it." He pulled his walkie talkie off his belt. "Hey George?"

Static, followed by a too loud, "Yea?"

"Could you give me the twenty on 4-6-8?"

"Wait one… It's in Charlie one niner."

They looked down at the pavement, and saw parking slot C19 occupied by a large red pickup truck with a black misshapen tarp covering the truck bed and tied securely to the high sides. Kearney clicked his radio. "No it's not."

More static. "Sure it is. Between 3-3-8 and 4-1-5." They looked to the left and saw armored car 338 backed into C20, and in spot C18 was 415. They stepped towards the pickup, and heard something or someone moving quietly under the tarp.

Beckett instantly whipped out her Glock and stepped in front of Castle. Castle half turned and straight armed Kearney, stopping his progress towards the truck. Beckett silently pointed to Demming, then a spot 3 feet to her left. Demming moved to the spot and drew his service revolver, now in an over-watch position. Castle wordlessly stuck his palm out, and Beckett reached in her pocket and handed him her knife. He flicked it open silently and moved to Beckett's right, never blocking her field of fire. They moved together to the side of the pickup, Beckett providing complete protection to her partner. Castle silently cut the ropes on his side nearest the cab, then both moved in perfect synchronization to the next rope halfway down the side of the truck. He cut those, then looked at Beckett and wrinkled his nose. She nodded, because she had smelled it too. They then moved together to the tail end of the truck, once again perfectly coordinated. Beckett was in a two hand stance and had the unarmed writer covered all the way. Rick confidently started cutting the cords back there. Not a sound had been made by either of them.

Demming realized he was witnessing something truly extraordinary. Two partners in such perfect harmony that they not only thought _alike_, they thought _identically_. They actually knew what the other one _wanted to do … and in the same exact moment_. Demming's new bride liked a dancing show on TV, and Demming realized what he was witnessing was one thousand percent more impressive. The perfect dance partners. He'd never seen two people so in synch.

Castle finished with the last strand of rope, and closed the knife and slid it in his pocket. Beckett backed into a perfect crossfire angle and nodded her head. Castle grabbed the tarp with one hand, and with the other held up 4 fingers, then 3, then 2. Instead of 1, he dropped his hand to grip the tarp, and in one smooth move whipped it over to the far side. Beckett and Demming stepped forward, guns ready.

The only living things they saw were two fat rats, scurrying for cover. They'd apparently been feasting on a corpse dressed in mechanic's overalls, his head so far askew it was obvious he had a broken neck. He was crammed between the side of the truck bed and what looked like an irregularly shaped table top, grey and dirty and scorched. Kearney, never having drawn his weapon, stepped forward to see what was happening. He spied the corpse, spun, took 4 or 5 quick mincing steps, and promptly threw up.


	7. Chapter 7

**Wednesday 4:24 am**

******Gotham City Security Service**

Demming was sitting on a bench in the garage away from the crime scene when he heard Castle's voice thank a patrolman, and looked up to see the writer approaching with three coffees and a white lunch bag. He slid over to make room, and said "Take a load off, Castle."

Castle sat next to the Robbery detective and pulled a large coffee out of the cardboard carrier. "One cream, no sugar."

"Thanks. Good guess."

Castle looked over at Beckett, talking to the Medical Examiner near the gurney holding the mechanic's corpse. "To paraphrase Permlutter, I don't guess. I'm a novelist." He reached in the bag and asked, "Cin-a-bon?"

"Absolutely." Demming took the offered sticky bun and started eating. Castle, for some unknown reason, took a coffee and the small bag and slid them behind him on the bench. He started drinking the third cup.

Demming nodded towards Beckett. "You two make a good team."

Castle smiled softly. "Beckett is, without a doubt, the strongest person I have ever met. The rest of us are just following her around, doing our best, trying not to disappoint her."

"It's more than that. I was at Roy Montgomery's funeral. You almost took a bullet for her."

Castle looked at the detective. "Yea, well, Beckett has me working out regularly now. I'll be faster next time."

Demming instantly knew that Castle wasn't exaggerating, or being satiric. It wasn't bravura. He was still, three years after the fact, regretting not getting between Beckett and the sniper. Obviously, he would do it again in a heartbeat. "Rumor has it, you two were the ones that disarmed that dirty bomb a couple of years ago."

"Detective Demming, I signed a paper stating in no uncertain terms that there was not, nor has there ever been, a dirty bomb in Manhattan. I have no idea what you are talking about." They both grinned.

Beckett nodded at the ME, scanned the activity around her, and turned and started for their bench. Her vision focused on the coffees in their hands. She eyed her fiancé. "CASTLE?!"

"What?" Mr. Innocence.

"Gimme."

Castle smiled, put his coffee down, and reached behind his back. He handed Kate her coffee and the bag, then slid over to give her room to sit between them.

Beckett plopped down on the bench with a sigh. She opened the bag and peered inside. "Yum! Do you guys want any?" She pulled out a bear claw.

Demming started licking his fingers. "Just finished mine." He turned and saw Beckett looking at him. "What?"

"Eew." She took a bite of the bear claw, and then pointedly took a paper napkin out of the bag and wiped her fingers. "Okay, what have you guys found out? Rick, you go first. We'll save Detective Sticky Fingers until he's done washing himself."

Castle took out a small spiral notebook, flipped it open, and pretty much ignored it after that. "First things first. Our initial victim was Archie Crane. Nicknamed "Itchy". Thirty-two. He'd been employed here for under three weeks. The drivers and guards here typically go through a probationary period, where they work on an 'as needed' basis learning the ropes. They are assigned to more experienced teammates, where they are graded on a daily basis. Every one of his coworkers thought he was bright, alert, and motivated. Passed his background check with flying colors. Has an impeccable record in the military as an MP for 10 years, mostly in Korea. Honorable Discharge as a Staff Sergeant two months ago." Castle looked at Beckett, pain in his eyes. "Brought home a Korean wife. Has one small child, and another on the way. Lives in Queens. Our next stop."

Beckett nodded, looked at her wrinkled Yankees jersey. "After the Loft."

Castle continued. "Victim number two. Gus Palappadous. Twenty-nine years young. Employed here six years as an armored car mechanic. Comes and goes at all hours, very dedicated employee. Prior to this he worked on armored vehicles in the Army, mostly Fort Hood. For obvious reasons, they like to hire veterans here. No problems whatsoever. Last background check was Christmas before last, and it was squeaky clean. Lives alone, emergency contact is an Aunt and Uncle in Albany. Reading between the lines, I believe Gus enjoyed an alternative lifestyle, but that didn't appear to be an issue here or elsewhere. That was his pickup truck we found him in.

"Here's where it gets weird. The other two individuals assigned to armored car 468 yesterday were also probationary employees. That's never supposed to happen. The drivers name is Mark Ennis, 47, retired Chief Petty Officer. Lives in a single-occupancy on the wrong side of the Holland Tunnel. Permanent address is Norfolk, Virginia. Divorced. No children. The other guard was also named Mark, Marcus King. Twenty-one years old. Lives with his parents in Harlem. Graduated in December from Hudson with a degree in Criminal Justice. Looks like he was waiting for a spot to open in the police academy. Ennis had been here five weeks, King just two. No red flags, or even yellow ones. I called Ennis' ex-wife and King's parents, pretending to be a drunken friend. They weren't happy to be wakened at three am. Nobody has heard from them in two days, which isn't unusual for either one. I sent copies of all personnel files to Ryan's email, and copied you. Questions?"

Beckett shook her head. "No. Two steps forward and two steps back." She looked at her folder, now open on her lap. "Permlutter identified a trace substance on Crane's body as heroin, probably Mexican Brown. Most likely transferred when they were removing his clothes. His initial tox screen was negative, and there is no apparent needle marks or other signs of use. So, probably from the killer. He said that Crane was in excellent shape, besides having a third of his bones broken and all his major organs burst." She shook her head again. "The good doctor concerns me, sometimes."

She took a sip of coffee. "The only obvious cause of death for our mechanic friend, Palappadous, was a broken neck. The ME believes it was snapped manually, from behind, by a trained man. T.O.D. between 8 and 10 last night. Outside of that, he won't commit to anything without a further examination." Beckett reached down and picked up a couple of clear evidence bags. "Poor Gus had his wallet and keys on him, a pack of gum, and two lottery tickets. However, trapped under him we found this." She held up a bag.

Demming asked, "Is that a rosary?"

"No" said Castle, taking it gently from Beckett's hand. "It's an Islamic _tasbih_. Known as a _subhah_ in parts of Persia and India. Arab worry beads. Will be used twice daily by the devout to recite the 99 names of Allah, or the Takbir itself: 'God is Great'. Palappadous is a very Greek name. This was under him?" He handed the bag back to Beckett.

Beckett nodded. "Yep. It could have been in there the whole time, or been dropped in a struggle. Also in there was a large chunk of Armored Car. Oddly enough, it was exactly the part of Gotham car 468 that contained the black box. Esposito's new CSU friend from Army CID said it was a very professional job, using shaped charges to remove the box without destroying it." She looked sad. "At least he was talking to me. Apparently, I am the wicked witch of the week for CSU. They're still working the first site, and this one, and haven't found anything else helpful."

Both turned towards Demming and said, in unison, "Your turn."

Demming smiled at their mirrored behavior. "Okay. First the good news. I still have a job. That's it for the good news." Demming took a healthy swig of coffee. "Now the not-so-good news. I hope you're comfortable, 'cause it's a lot. The first thing we did, when old Bo was feeling better, was track the movement of car 468 today. It was SUPPOSED to be here in the maintenance garage all day for routine work. What it did was drive down to Atlantic City, stopping by three different casinos for twenty or so minutes each. It then drove back here to the city, detouring once to stop at the race track. Once back in the city, its last stop was the fed, as in the freaking Federal Reserve Bank. It then stopped by your alley, then drove back here to slot C19."

Castle looked like a kid at Christmas. "How much were they carrying?"

Demming shook his head. "Unknown. Neither the security company nor the police are told the transaction amounts unless it exceeds the insurance, which is $50 million per pickup. The only way we can tell is to look at their paperwork, but upon pain of death I'm not allowed to talk to the casinos, race track, or fed. Or anyone else. Ever. I didn't ask if I was allowed to talk to you, because I was afraid of the answer.

Demming looked puzzled. "The paperwork here says 468 should be parked in the garage. The software from Robbery says 468 ran its correct route yesterday. The IAD employee scheduler says that Crane, Ennis, and King had the day off yesterday. Accounting here says that those three were called in as sick day replacements, but nobody is sick. The maintenance schedule shows that Palappadous downchecked vehicle 468 for brake work, which often involves having to go out and test drive it. The company scheduler shows 468 was good to go."

"I woke my Captain, Mike Melrose, who's normally a nice guy, and pretty mellow. I am amazed he didn't stroke out. He still might - the night is young. He woke up the commissioner, the chief, the head of IAD, and the head of Admin. Admin woke up her top IT people. The IT people are both swearing the system can't be hacked and are trying to plug the holes, whatever that means. I'm in here hiding from the president and CEO of Gotham Security, both of whom appear to be blaming us for everything.

Demming looked at Beckett and Castle. "Now, are you ready for the bad news?"

Beckett couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. Demming waited until her laughter subsided….mostly. "Feel better? Good. Due to the interstate nature of the crime, we can expect to tie this in a bow and hand it to the Feds in about 3 hours. Which means my department, plus Admin, plus IAD, plus whoever else they can think of, will undergo a very thorough Federal audit, the equivalent of a departmental colonoscopy. It'll be ugly. I want to go back to Hawaii."

Beckett smiled. A mean smile, but a smile none-the-less. "Detective Demming, you are currently seconded to NYPD Homicide Team Alpha for the duration of this case. I have two homicides that happened within my jurisdiction. Until they are solved, you belong to me."

Demming snorted. "C'mon Beckett, face facts. We have an interstate robbery, using weapons stolen in another federal case, and circumstantial evidence linking the murders to either Mexican cartels or Arab terrorists, or both. You can pick any 3 letters from the alphabet, and that agency will be claiming case ascendancy."

"No, Tom." Beckett stood up and stretched her back. Her voice was barely over a whisper, so Demming had to strain to hear. "What I have is a young widow and mother-to-be that has to be told that her husband won't be coming home again. Ever. One child who won't see her father again, and another who will never, ever get the chance. So here's what you're going to do. We'll drop you off at your apartment. You'll grab a couple of hours sleep, and we'll meet back at the 12th at eight. Sharp. Let's go." They headed for the car.


	8. Chapter 8

**Wednesday 9:08 am**

**12th Precinct**

Castle exited the elevator and walked into the bullpen carrying two coffees. He'd walked these exact same steps, holding these exact same blends, hundreds of times before. He realized he was more tired than usual, not having slept since yesterday morning. He was also a little down, having recently experienced two short hours ago the Crane family notification, which had been nothing short of brutal. However, those feelings were offset by the thrill of the hunt, and the intrigue of this case. Undoubtedly the largest armored car heist in history, brilliantly planned and ruthlessly carried out, and he had a chance to help solve it! He looked at Gates' office and was surprised to see it empty. Ryan and Esposito were working at their respective desks. He placed the coffees at Beckett's desk and asked, "Where is everybody?"

Esposito answered without looking up. "Major pow-wow. I haven't seen that many Feds since I took that class at Quantico. They were going to try to squeeze them all in the big conference room over at the 3rd precinct. Or maybe rent out Madison Square Gardens."

"How's Gates?"

Ryan turned around and grinned. "She went with them to ride herd. An ATF guy and a lawyer from the security company tried to throw their weight around, getting in Demming's and Beckett's face. The Captain just blew them up. It was awesome. I've never known anybody who can be so obnoxious without either cussing or repeating herself. It's so nice she's had you to practice on all these years."

"I'm glad I could be of service. What are you doing?"

Esposito again. "We're looking for that stupid tractor trailer with armored car #468 on it. We've expanded the search parameters in both time and area. Not a sniff. Sounds like you had an interesting night."

Castle gave both detectives a detailed account of their night at Gotham Security, as well as a brief description of the extremely difficult interview with Archie Crane's widow Mi-Hi. He then started updating the murder board, adding the vitals for Crane and Palappadous. He put Ennis and King on as suspects. He expanded the time line to include the casino run for the armored car.

The elevator opened, disgorging Beckett and Demming. Beckett had gone all out, wearing her favorite 'power' suit. She called it her 'guilty' suit, either because she generally saved it for testifying in murder trials, or because it was so expensive. She joined Castle at her desk, spied her coffee, and grabbed it for a swig. "Thanks, Castle!"

"My pleasure."

"Can we talk?"

"Sure."

Beckett pulled him behind the murder board, put one arm around his neck and her other palm on his cheek, and gave him a long and passionate kiss on the lips. And tongue. And more lips. She finally broke the kiss, stepped back a few inches, and whispered "Thank you."

Castle grinned. "You're welcome. Why are you thanking me? For a cup of coffee? I'll go get you a pot."

"For that. For all my other coffees." She leaned in and whispered in his ear, "For helping me … wash and shave … in the shower this morning." She rested her forehead against his. "For suggesting this suit today. For being there for me today at Mi-Hi Cranes. For just being there for me, always."

"Exactly. Always." Castle pulled her into a hug. "It may be a crappy thing to be good at, but you are awesome with grieving people. You are so strong, you seem to lend them strength, and give them a glimmer of hope for better times. Even when the world as they knew it has been burnt to ashes."

Beckett sighed. "I always thought it would get easier, somehow. It doesn't. I could not have done that today, if you weren't with me."

"Anytime, Kate. Forever."

"I guess we should step out before they start talking." They stepped quickly around the board. The bullpen was mostly empty. Esposito, Ryan, and Demming were suddenly busy reading files. Beckett smiled and called, "The file is upside down!" Esposito and Demming both started flipping their respective files around, catching themselves too late. Castle and Ryan laughed. Beckett's smile widened.

Esposito looked up. "Do we still have a case?"

"For now, but we are definitely on the clock. The company estimates anywhere from 18 to 24 hours to breach those internal safes without a key." Esposito and Ryan slid their chairs over, and Demming grabbed an extra. "The FBI is taking over the robbery aspect, mostly because of the Federal Reserve Bank getting hit for the first time in history. Fourteen million. It was all money that was supposed to go to their secure facility in New Jersey for disposal. Total take, just under forty-one million."

Esposito's eyes got wide. "Holy shit! Does the press have this yet?"

"If they don't, they soon will. Most everybody in that meeting was posturing to try to get a bigger piece of this case. If Chief Cavillo hadn't been there, I don't think Gates would have been able to hold on to it for us. Eventually, a couple of very smart lawyers from Justice laid out a plan that everybody could live with. They also promised us access to their information, which will be here shortly.

She drank more coffee. "They have their IT guys looking at the ACT software, where they think they've found vulnerabilities. The FBI is going on the premise that some or all of the rookie drivers at Gotham were in on it. They are trying to tie those guys to the shootout at the armory. They are also all over the heroin angle. It's confirmed it's Mexican Brown, a cut that the Cordova Cartel has been selling here for months. They are not admitting to looking at the Islamic extremist angle, but I have it on good authority that they'll be looking there as well." She looked pointedly at Demming.

Demming nodded his head. "Count on it. My source told me that two of the biggest suspects of the armory heist were the Cordova cartel and a group of West African Muslims known as the 'Movement of Oneness'. "

Beckett grimaced. "I don't want to narrow our focus to that degree. There's still a lot we don't know. I have some things I'd like to check out, but I'm willing to listen to suggestions if anyone has one."

Several seconds of silence. Castle raised his hand tentatively. Beckett asked, "Rick?"

"I have a couple of theories how this could have happened."

Beckett smiled, and said "Me too."

Ryan said, "Uh-oh!" He slid his chair back to his desk, grabbed a big bag of potato chips, and slid back again. "Okay, ready!" He opened the bag, poured several into Esposito's cupped hands, then leaned back in his chair and started munching.

Beckett squinted at him. At his smile, she rolled her eyes, then addressed her fiancé. "What are you thinking, Castle?"

"I'm thinking that everybody else is so focused on means, which always tracks back to the National Guard Armory shootout, that they're missing the most important item, opportunity."

Beckett nodded. "Which is the route of car 468."

"Exactly. It's so brilliant, I am filled with jealousy that I didn't think of it. Someone scheduled car 468 to drive to that alley at exactly 8:04 pm last night to its own robbery! Not only that, they cherry-picked the biggest and best Gotham Security pick-ups, and dropped them out of the schedule of the armored cars that should have made those stops! They then back-filled those stops with car 468, manned by three rookies who wouldn't know that anything was off. It's genius!"

Beckett smiled. "Those guys were so new they had no idea that what they were doing was bizarre, especially the last drop off in the middle of nowhere."

"I'd bet, if we checked, a Gotham armored car drove by each of those casinos while 468 was there. As long as none of the cars got more than half an hour out of whack, no alarms would sound. All the originally scheduled vehicles would be a little bit ahead of schedule, no big deal."

Beckett nodded, her eyes shining with excitement. "So they didn't need an inside man in 468. All they needed was an armored truck." She took Ennis' and King's pictures, and moved them next to Cranes under the word 'Victims'. She then took Gus the mechanic's picture, and moved it where theirs had been under the 'Suspects' heading. "I'm working on the premise that Ennis and King are captured or dead. The perps got the truck from Palappadous, and killed him because they knew he was the weak link."

"Right. All they needed was access to the ACT software."

"Sometime between the time yesterday's schedule was created and the time it was sent to Gotham."

"It's a cop!" Castle wrote 'cop'. "At least one. Maybe two. They needed the rookies' names, so maybe IAD was involved." Castle wrote 'cop2' with a question mark.

"Okay" Beckett agreed. "There must be at least three perps." Castle wrote #3. "One to shoot the truck, an explosives expert to remove the black box, and one to operate the crane and drive the semi. Would have been easier with four." He added a #4 and a question mark. "Which brings us back to the anti-tank weapon and the Semtex."

"It's not from the National Guard robbery. Not exactly. It must be from the third truck, the one the thieves didn't get away with!"

"Yes! Then liberated from wherever the evidence was being stored."

Castle and Beckett were now no more than 18 inches from each other. Both mirrored each other in excitement with blazing eyes, flushed cheeks, and rapid breathing. They smiled helplessly at each other, until they heard Demming's voice intrude into their little personal bubble.

"That was REALLY weird….do they make out now?"

They turned and looked at the three male detectives. All three were sitting back, munching chips, and sporting very different smiles. Ryan's showed pride and awe, bordering on adoration. Esposito's was a smile of exasperation, and Demming's one of puzzlement mixed with amusement. Espo said, "Bro, I think they already did that!" earning another squinty-eyed look from Beckett.

She pointed to the board. "So, this is how we are going to assume the robbery went down until we prove ourselves wrong. Ryan, could you please pull the phone records for all four of these guys, and text messages too. E-mails. The works. I want to know how these guys got called into work yesterday, because it wasn't from IAD. I especially want to know who was talking to Palappadous. Demming , I'm sorry to do this to you, but I need a complete list of everybody that has sufficient knowledge and access of the ACT software to pull this off. That includes IAD if they use it, IT people, everybody ….but especially 3rd Precinct personnel and Robbery Division. Can you do that?"

"No problem." There wasn't anybody an honest cop wanted to bust more than a dirty one.

"Esposito, I need to find out what happened to the evidence from the armory robbery, and then do a physical inventory of it. But it needs to be done DISCRETELY. Castle will help you."

Castle looked puzzled. "How will I help him?"

Beckett beamed her best smile at him. "Castle, you know I love you, right?"

Esposito muttered to the others, "Set-up. This sounds bad."

She continued, "…and I'd never ask you to do anything that wasn't absolutely necessary?"

"Make that REAL bad."

Castle tentatively said, "Sure…"

"Great! Follow me!" Beckett marched to the small conference room near the elevator, Castle and Esposito following. She opened the door, turned on the light, and said "Voila!" Stacked on the table were six boxes stuffed with files, notebooks, and looseleaf paper. "The feds files, as promised!"

Esposito quickly exclaimed, "I gotta make a call" and ducked out.

"Beckett! Seriously?"

She patted his cheek. "What we need first is the inventory of that third truck, and the disposition of the evidence. You can either do this, or bring Gates up to speed."

Castle smiled, and took off his Sports Coat. "On it."


	9. Chapter 9

**Wednesday 11:43 am**

**12****th**** Precinct**

Beckett stepped out of Gates office and looked around. Castle was huddled with Esposito at his desk, and Ryan was working at his computer. Demming looked up from the vacationing Karpowski's desk, and she motioned the Robbery Detective over. She swung by and told the other three men, "Quick meeting now" and proceeded to her chair.

They gathered at her desk. She turned to Demming and asked, "How many have you identified that had access to the ACT software?"

Demming responded, "I have found 43 people that had both the knowledge of the system and could have had access to ACT between the time the Gotham schedule was created and it was sent out."

Ryan looked surprised. "Forty-three! I thought it was supposed to be a secure system?"

Demming shrugged. "It's not a very popular job, so it's shared out a lot. There are a dozen of us that rotate the duty week by week, but there are a lot of others that know it because they have to maintain it, or input construction or traffic issues, or make last minute changes. It's also linked to the Sensys Traffic Control system, so all the systems guys over there have the password."

Esposito asked, "Can we narrow the suspect pool? Eliminate cops and techs with no access to the Mexican heroin, or knowledge of the National Guard armory robbery, or with an alibi last night?"

Beckett shook her head. "No, unfortunately. If there's a second cop involved, they could have pooled their knowledge. We'd eliminate our guy, when in reality he got the heroin or armory information second hand. I want to review the group of suspects with you, Tom, but we're not going to get him that way." She looked at her junior partner. "Ryan?"

"Sorry boss, I came up empty. Looks like Ennis, King, and Crane were all contacted by the same burner phone yesterday morning. It's from a bulk account that was stolen last year, so it's completely untraceable. It seems the mechanic, Palappadous, has been receiving and making calls to that same burner phone for over three weeks. That phone is not in service at this time. No text messages or emails from anybody rang any bells. The only thing slightly off was Ennis spending an inordinate amount of time on some pretty raunchy porn sites."

Castle leaned forward. "Really? Which ones?"

Beckett snapped, "Castle!"

Castle smiled. "Hey, it's case related … kind of." He handed two files to Beckett. "I haven't reviewed them yet, but these are the two guys killed in the shootout with the MPs last year. All the different agencies spent countless time and energy trying to tie them to one organization or another, without success. They appear to be standard street thugs, with a list of strong-arm crimes on their resume. No help there. However….." He motioned to Esposito.

Esposito took Castle's cue. "Most of the arms and ammo from the third truck were returned to the New York National Guard." At Beckett's look of disappointment he added, "But! One of the bad guys was shot and killed in the rear of the third truck, and everything that had his prints or had blood spatter was entered into evidence. It's at the evidence warehouse up in Red Hook. The list includes Semtex charges, an M40A1, a few anti-tank rounds, and some other goodies."

"Okay, great. Take Ryan and see what they have and what they're missing. Don't let anybody know what you're checking out. Take a fingerprint kit while you're at it, maybe we'll get lucky. But whatever you do, stay off the radio! Cell phones only! If these guys have any brains at all, they're monitoring our comm."

"Ok, road trip to Red Hook. Come on, Kevin."

Ryan stayed seated. "Hold it, Javi. Beckett, I'd like to stay here if that's okay."

Beckett lifted her eyebrows. "Why?"

Ryan's face grew animated. "Well, since we're working on the premise we're dealing with dirty cops, I started thinking. Espo and I looked high and low for that damn tractor trailer, and came up empty. We shouldn't have, though. We checked EVERYTHING. So, what if the server crash that turned off certain cameras wasn't a server crash? So I checked. Sure enough, it looks like someone disabled specific cameras for last night, and they weren't reactivated until the server ran its maintenance routine at midnight. That's why I thought it was a server crash."

Ryan jogged back to his desk, and returned with a map of Manhattan. He laid it out on Beckett's desk for everybody to see. "I marked where the disabled cameras are located. Based on this, that armored car HAS TO be within this square." His fingers outlined a highlighted rectangle on the map.

Castle asked, "Can you tell who disabled the cameras?"

Ryan shrugged. "I have tech checking, but they say it's iffy. What I'd really like to do is see if I can identify the building they're using."

"Bro, that has to be, what? Four blocks by twelve blocks. Fifty square blocks? That's gotta be a thousand buildings, with lots of warehouses." Esposito shook his head. "Way too many to check, and they'd see us coming a mile away."

Ryan replied, "Actually, only about seven hundred".

Castle smiled and leaned over the map. "No, wait. This might work. Wherever they took that semi, they'd need complete privacy. So the building would need to be empty, abandoned, or otherwise unused."

Beckett nodded, smiling for the first time since leaving Gates' office. "They would need to pull INTO a building, not back up to a loading dock. That would have to eliminate most of the buildings right away. That puts them on the first floor of a building with a huge garage door, and reinforced floors."

Ryan nodded. " Also, it would have to be fairly secure, no homeless people camped out, or windows to look through, and at least somewhat soundproof. If I can get it down to a handful of buildings, we can check them out ourselves."

Beckett's smile widened. "Good thinking, Kevin. Run with it." She looked at Esposito. "Can you take someone else to Red Hook?"

Esposito pointed to his favorite civilian. "I'll take Castle. He's good at diversions."

Beckett shook her head. "You can't have him. **I** need him here." They all looked at her, smiling. She rolled her eyes. "Not for THAT! Gates just told me that the Commissioner, in his infinite wisdom, has decided to saddle us with an IAD guy since we're looking at cops."

Esposito asked, "Who?"

Beckett checked the paper on her desk. "A Lieutenant named Clifford Robinson. Anybody know him?"

Demming looked like he'd just eaten something sour. "I have. I think he married the Commissioner's niece. Not only is he on my suspect cop list, he's a major douche bag. Word has it he went through seven partners as a beat cop."

Even Castle knew that was bad. That many partners showed a major problem, indicating anything from terrible hygiene or an abrasive personality up to dishonesty or cowardice.

Becket grimaced. "Gates said we have to take him, but not that we had to keep him. I was hoping we could give him a dose of 'Annoying Castle' and get rid of him."

Castle's whole face lit up. "Your faith in me is touching, Detective." He looked at Demming. "How big a douche is he?"

"Huge."

"Okay. Consider him gone." Castle glanced at Esposito, then asked Beckett "You're not going to let Espo go alone, are you?"

Esposito announced, "No problemo! I'll grab Hernandez downstairs." Esposito was always mentoring younger cops, especially Hispanics. "He'll be thrilled to wear his civvies."

Beckett nodded. "Okay. Remember, stay off the radio." She turned to Castle. "Rick, before your victim shows up, do you think you could grab us some lunch?"

"No problemo!"


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N - A little fluffy chapter before we get into it.**

**Wednesday 1:18 pm**

**12****th**** Precinct**

A large man in a three piece suit stepped off the elevator and looked around the bullpen. He sauntered over to Gates' office and knocked on the jamb of the open door. "Captain Gates? Good afternoon. I'm Lieutenant Clifford Robinson from IAD."

Gates stood up and walked around her desk to shake his hand. "We're glad to have you on board, Lieutenant. I'm expecting a call in a second, so I'll take you quickly to meet the team lead." Gates walked out of her office to Beckett's desk, who was reviewing files with Demming. "Detective Beckett, this is Lieutenant Robinson. He'll be aiding you during this investigation." Gates promptly spun on her heels and went back to her office, closing the door behind her.

"Hi, Detec…"

Robinson stopped when Beckett threw up a palm and said, "Wait one, Robinson." She turned to Demming and said, "Could you check on their whereabouts last night?"

"No problem, Beckett." Demming grabbed his chair and a dozen files and returned to Karpowski's desk.

Beckett called out, "Castle!" Castle left Esposito's extra chair and wandered over to Kate's desk.

"You bellowed, ma'am?"

Beckett pointed to the Lieutenant. "This is Robinson. You'll be working together but before you start, can I please have a refill?" She handed Castle her empty coffee mug.

"Sure. You want some coffee, Robinson?"

"That'd be good. You should all know, I prefer if people, especially civilians, called me Lieutenant Robinson or just Lieutenant".

"Robinson!" Beckett's voice froze the big man halfway to the break room. "On my team, we don't use ranks. It divides the team." Beckett dismissed him by diving back into her files.

"Come along, Robinson. I'll show you how this machine works." Castle and Robinson disappeared into the break room. In a few minutes, Castle returned holding two steaming mugs in his hands. He paused and whispered something to Demming, waited for Demming to nod back with a huge grin, then continued on to his chair near Beckett's desk. He handed her mug back to Beckett. "One latte, with two vanilla pumps."

"Thanks." Beckett took a sip and sighed. "How's Ryan doing?"

"Great. He's got it down to about thirty possible properties, and he's eliminating one every two or three minutes. Any word from Esposito?"

"He's on his way back, should be here in a half hour. Looks like we were right, the weapons came from the evidence warehouse. He was circumspect on the phone, so he'll have to fill us in when he gets here." A loud rattling and quiet cursing emanated from the break room. Beckett smiled at Castle and asked, "What did you do?"

Castle grinned. "Who me? Well, I _might_ have unobtrusively turned the water off to the espresso machine." They both watched as the IAD man came out of the break room. At the same time, Castle whispered to Beckett, "Watch this" as Demming got up and entered the break room.

Robinson stopped in front of Beckett's desk. He set his mug down, and they both noticed it was filled with tap water. Castle didn't even try to hide his grin. Robinson announced, "Detective, I'd like to review with you any NYPD personnel you suspect may be involved in this crime."

"Robinson, we need to set some ground rules here." Beckett's glare, perfected in hundreds of interrogations, pinned Robinson in his place. "This is **my** team. How I use your … assistance … is totally at my discretion. You will do what I say, when I say it. Now," she added as she reached for two thick files, "both you and Castle will familiarize yourselves thoroughly with these two thieves killed in the armory robbery. Then, we'll see if we can connect them to anybody on the NYPD."

As she handed the files to them, Demming emerged and wandered over to Beckett's desk. The coffee in his hand was steaming and aromatic. He dropped off a file on the desk, told Beckett "Not him" and then commented to Castle. "Thanks, Rick. This Kona blend is terrific!"

"My pleasure, Tom." Castle thought about asking about Robinson's coffee, but he didn't want to be too over the top. At least not yet. He pointed to a loose thread on Robinson's shoulder. "You might want to get that before it snags, Robinson." Robinson looked at the thread, grabbed it, and yanked. He ended up with about two feet of thread in his hand and a damaged shoulder seam.

Castle looked at Beckett and smiled. "See, Beckett, that's why I don't buy suits three-for-one." He turned back to the IAD man. "Come on, Robinson, we'll use Esposito's desk."

Robinson tried to stare down a smiling Beckett, but failed miserably. He turned and stomped after Castle. Castle pulled out Esposito's desk chair. The big IAD man announced, "I'll use that chair" and quickly sat. It became immediately apparent the chair had been set for a much smaller person. Castle stepped back to Espo's side chair and sat. He started reading the file rapidly.

Without looking up, Castle asked, "Should I finish the story, Ryan?"

Ryan, still glued to his computer, responded "Sure, Castle."

Castle proceeded to describe a party he had attended with Billy Joel around Christmas. He was talking loudly and dropping A-list names right and left, describing various dramatic moments with the rich and famous. He could tell that Robinson was mesmerized by the story, and basically had stopped pretending to look at the file. About six minutes into the story, Castle paused and offered his file to Robinson. "Switch?"

Robinson looked at the file in his hand. He was still on the first page. He closed it and said, "Sure" swapping files with Castle.

Castle resumed both the story and scanning the file in his hands. He was just getting through the tale of a knockdown, drag out fight between the Kardashians and the paparazzi when Beckett wandered over. "Quit clowning around, Castle. What did you guys find out?"

Castle closed the file. "These guys spent a lot of time getting arrested elsewhere, Beckett, but nothing jumped out at me here in New York. "

Beckett looked at Robinson. "Anything?"

"Er. Um. Nothing special here in the city."

Castle said, "Well, there was that armed robbery arrest here with Roche, the guy from New Orleans."

Beckett said, "Oh, good. Which precinct was that, Robinson?"

Robinson opened the file and started paging through it rapidly. Castle leaned over and handed his file to Robinson. "Here. This one is Roche. That file is Taylor's. Regardless, it was the 33rd precinct. Arresting officer was Detective Wershing."

"Okay. Anything else?"

Castle nodded. "Oh yeah, there was an arrest in the 3rd precinct for Taylor."

"Which officers were involved with that one, Robinson?" Beckett was practically tapping her foot.

"Ummm." He opened the other file and started rifling through it.

Castle said helpfully, "Try the third page from the back."

The IAD man went straight to the 3rd last page and read blindly off the form "Sergeant Tomlinson."

Castle said. "Ooops. I'm sorry. It must be the second last page." Castle looked at Beckett and grinned. "Tomlinson was from Brooklyn on the aggravated assault arrest. Patrolman Egan was from the 3rd, but it was a small parole violation."

Beckett leaned over the big Lieutenant. Her eyes were shooting daggers, her voice quaking with anger. "Robinson, we take our work here very seriously. It is up to us to protect the people of this city from the worst criminals imaginable. This is not a trip to Disneyland. Did you even read the fucking files?"

Robinson sputtered, "You can't treat me like this. I'm not some pissant Detective, Beckett. To who do you think you're talking to."

"Whom" corrected Castle. "To **whom** do you think you're talking. Common mistake. Also, you ended your sentence with a preposition."

"I'm not going to sit here and let some playboy civilian correct my grammar."

Castle grinned. "Syntax. Not grammar. Another common mistake."

The big man's face had turned red with anger. He put his hands on the chair arms to rise out of the too small chair. Immediately, Castle and Ryan were standing on either side of Beckett, giving him insufficient room to stand. Ryan raised his hands in supplication.

"Lieutenant Robinson, don't blame Castle." He gave him a wide smile, his blue eyes guileless. "Captain Gates has become a stickler for correct usage of the English language, both written and oral. As a matter of fact" he added quietly, "she has asked us to correct her when she makes a mistake. We actually have a pool to see which one of us will be the first to correct her use of the word 'clear'. She always used to say 'Am I clear' when she wanted to say 'Am I clear**er'**. 'Clearer', of course. being the comparative form used in declarative sentences." Ryan gave a friendly laugh. "You wouldn't believe how long it takes us to write reports now."

Robinson cooled off somewhat during Ryan's explanation. He looked at Beckett. "Fine. I will try to make sure my English is perfect. In the meantime, the commissioner thought I could be of use as an expert in illegal activities by NYPD personnel. Now, do you think it's a cop or not?"

Beckett looked at him. "That's our theory at this time. We believe it was someone who was from or associated with the 3rd precinct, but we are having trouble narrowing it down. Are there any ongoing investigations of personnel over there?"

Gates' door opened. Robinson grumped, "I'll check in a moment" before standing and marching to the captain's office. He knocked briskly and stepped in, closing the door behind him.

Castle turned to Ryan with a huge smile. "Detective Kevin Ryan, that was ….. inspired. I am in awe!"

Ryan smiled smugly, resuming his seat. "Well, Castle, I learned from the best!"

Castle pressed his palms together, and bowed deeply to Ryan in obeisance. "And the apprentice becomes the Master. _Padawan_."

Ryan chuckled. Beckett asked, "What's this guy's story?"

Castle responded, "Ambitious, and a big whiner. NOT a good combination."

Ryan shook his head. "This guy probably threw every partner he ever had under the bus."

Beckett and Castle returned to her desk. As they sat, Beckett asked, "What's our end game with Lieutenant Douche?"

Castle looked at her. "I think we'll send him to Bob".

Beckett smiled. Demming walked over and dropped off another file. "Who's Bob?"

Beckett giggled. "Don't ask."

Demming turned on Castle and asked, "Was that BS or did you really go to a party with Billy Joel?"

Beckett laughed out loud and answered, "Billy Joel wouldn't know Castle if he walked up to him and bit him in the ass."

Castle argued, "Yeah, but I bet he'd know me _after_ said biting!"

Demming shook his head. "You guys are wasted in Homicide. You should all be doing stand-up at the Improv." He returned to Karpowski's desk.

"What's wrong with Demming?" Beckett asked.

Castle shrugged. "Honeymoon withdrawal?" he guessed.

Gates raised voice could be heard through the closed door. Everyone in the bullpen smiled. Suddenly, a much more distinct Gates could be heard yelling "Do NOT correct my grammar, Lieutenant. You forget your place. Now, get out there and help the team. If Detective Beckett asks you to jump, I want you to JUMP. AM I CLEAR?"

The door opened, and a chastised Robinson re-appeared. He walked up to Beckett and said, "What would you like me to do, Detective Beckett?" He didn't try to hide his anger and embarrassment.

"Well, Robinson, unfortunately we haven't narrowed our suspect pool enough for you to assist. However, despite our lack of progress, the mayor wants an immediate update. Do you think you can handle that?"

Robinson's change in demeanor was nothing short of miraculous. He smiled and asked, "In person?"

Beckett nodded and said, "Yes, unfortunately. ASAP, at the mayor's office in City Hall."

Robinson tried to look reluctant, but had no acting ability. "Okay, if you need someone to, I'll do this favor for you Beckett, but you'll owe me. Be back soon." He turned and marched for the elevator, giving Ryan a dirty look as he passed his desk.

As soon as the elevator had swallowed Robinson, Castle pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contact list, and thumbed a number. He raised the phone to his ear and waited. "Hi, Denise, it's Rick Castle ….. No, I don't want the big cheese, I want you ….. That's not very appropriate for a married woman, is it? ... Well, you're absolutely right, THAT is much less appropriate ….. okay, before I start blushing, I need a big favor … of course. Don't you want me to owe you a favor? ... Are you sure you're still married? ... alright, there is a police Lieutenant named Cliff Robinson that is coming to see the mayor ….. Good, I'm glad he's busy, because I want the opposite. I want you to give this guy the royal run-around … it's kind of a practical joke ….. I don't care. If you can keep him busy until Friday, that would work for me …. That'd be great. Thanks Denise … okay, now I really am blushing .….. thanks, you too ….. bye."

He hung up, then caught Beckett's look. "What?"

Beckett growled, "Castle, you and I need to have a little talk."


	11. Chapter 11

**Wednesday 1:57 pm**

**12th Precinct**

Esposito walked into the bullpen, grabbed his chair, tapped Ryan on the shoulder, and approached Beckett's desk, where Castle, Beckett, and Demming were still trying to come up with a combination of 3rd precinct personnel that had the means and opportunity to commit the robbery. Esposito sat down with a grunt, and then shouted "Who screwed with my chair?".

Castle said "That would be LIEUTENANT Douchebag to you!"

Esposito looked at Castle, then the grinning Ryan as he slid up. "Whatever."

Beckett looked at the clock and inquired, "Traffic?" Esposito was normally punctual to a fault.

"Nope. The vultures are out. Some idiot from IAD let the press know about the robbery, and told them we are the lead investigators. They must be 10 deep out front, and every satellite truck in the country is setting up on the street."

Beckett took both her hands and rubbed her eyes. She looked around. "We are still on track with our theory of the robbery. Esposito, what did you guys find out at Red Hook."

"Well, the first thing we found out is they have been a mess since Super storm Sandy, and have been playing catch-up ever since. A lot of evidence was destroyed. Their inventory has been moved around and moved around again, so they always have to look in a couple of spots to find anything."

Esposito waved a piece of paper. "Here's the list of everything checked in as evidence from the National Guard Armory robbery, and about half of it was checked out the Saturday before last to get ready for court. Naturally, there's no court case pending."

Beckett asked, "Was it who we thought it would be?"

Esposito nodded. "Yep."

Demming sat up. "Who you thought it would be? Do you have a suspect? Are you guys holding out on me?"

Beckett looked at him. "Yes, No, and Yes. Javi, do you want to do the honors?"

Esposito shrugged. "Sure. Last Saturday afternoon late a Detective, supposedly from the 3rd Precinct Robbery Division, pulled up to the Red Hook facility in a white van. He was described as white, tall, and fit, with brown or black hair. It was a Saturday, so he only dealt with one guard at the warehouse, who is so old he's a doctor's visit away from being ruled too old to work. The disk for the security system for last Saturday is missing, so we don't have a picture or good description. However, they do require everyone to show their badge, and they record the number. They also require them to sign the log. All of the armament and ordinance was checked out by badge number 40493, Thomas Demming."

They all looked at Demming. Demming looked disgusted. "Seriously? Why is it every time I work with you guys, you accuse me of something?"

Beckett maintained, "This time we're not accusing you. We know you didn't do it. In case you've forgotten, you were getting married last Saturday."

Ryan turned to Demming and said, "From one married guy to another, it's a REAL good idea to remember that date. You might want to write it down or something."

Demming was puzzled. "So why did you think you knew I'd be the one in the log?"

Castle spoke up. "It was your computer that shut down the cameras in the warehouse district. You were somewhere over Oklahoma at the time. The techs called earlier today."

Demming said, "Wait a minute. Actually, this is good news. It means we can eliminate a lot of the suspect tree, including only people who had access to my computer yesterday morning."

Beckett nodded, "Also eliminate anybody who attended your wedding service. But Demming, how did someone get a hold of your badge?"

He shook his head. "Nobody could have. I always have my badge."

Castle asked, "At your wedding? During your honeymoon?"

"Yep."

Esposito said, "Little game of Cops and convicts with the new wife, bro?" Everybody stopped and looked at him. He asked, "Too soon?"

Beckett asked, "What about your first badge before you made Detective?"

Demming nodded. "Top drawer of my desk at the precinct, like everybody else. Unfortunately, lots of people know it's there, and I keep it unlocked. Lost the keys months ago. Actually, I think the manual says we're _supposed _to keep it there."

Beckett said, "Yes. Locked. We'll send a tech over to your desk to see if we can get fingerprints, and just to get black powder over all your shit, to teach you to lock your desk drawers."

"Good one, Beckett." The other teammates fed Beckett's 'bird'.

Beckett looked at Kevin. "Ryan, how close are you?"

Ryan said, "Getting there. Down to the sweet sixteen. I need to get into the hall of records and check the remaining properties."

Castle volunteered. "No problem, Kevin. I'll just call my guy down there to access their system. He can scan in every building we need if it hasn't been digitalized yet."

Demming asked, "You have a guy at the Hall of Records?"

Castle responded, "Demming, I have a .."

The three homicide detectives groaned in unison ".. guy everywhere."

Castle smiled, scrolled through his contact list, pushed a button, stood, and retreated out of earshot to Ryan's desk.

"Okay, Kevin, before you and Castle start on the sweet sixteen, let's hear what we are up against. What do we know or think we know these guys got from the warehouse, Esposito?"

"It's bad, boss. One M40A1 recoilless rifle with two ATW and two anti-personnel rounds, an M16 with 8 clips of ammo, a dozen Semtex-10 shaped charges, a box of H&K MP7 submachine guns with two boxes of 4.6×30mm Hollow Point cartridges, and four Atchisson AA-12s with a crate of regular and frag rounds."

Beckett asked, "What was that last one? An AA-12?"

Esposito shook his head. "VERY bad news. An automatic 12 gauge shotgun with a short barrel. Four of those can take out an entire village in three seconds. Also fires grenade rounds."

"They've invented an AUTOMATIC shotgun? That's just freaking great." Beckett rubbed her eyes again. "Okay, Demming and I will work on the bad cop list. Ryan, work with Castle and let's find that armored car. We have one more hour before the minimum time for the bad guys to breach the internal safes. Esposito, I need you to give a heads up to your old boss at ESU. Make sure he knows the quantity and type of weapons in play here. Then look around the five state area and see if any of these weapons have turned up, either for sale by a collector or in a crime. Let's get it done, people!"

Everyone scattered to their appointed tasks. Demming retrieved the files from Karpowski's desk and slammed them on Beckett's desk. He sat and opened the top file.

Beckett barked, "No temper tantrums, Demming! Why so surly? We were confidant it wasn't you. Plus, most of your good friends should have been at your wedding, so it probably wasn't a close friend."

"That's not it. I don't know. More than anything, it's jealousy."

"Jealous? Of what?"

"Of you, Beckett!"

"Pardon me?"

"Kate, do you have any idea what you have here? Your little team here, you and your two musketeers and your goofball writer? I joined the force two years before you. Since getting my gold shield, I've been on the same team as Esposito at ESU and three separate robbery teams. In the twelve hours I've been here on your team, I've had more fun than I've had the last two years combined. Totally stressed, but fun, you know?"

He moved the top file off the pile, and handed it to Beckett. "Might be him, he wasn't at the wedding and has access to my desk." He opened the next file, and continued. "I know you three are top cops. I think Ryan is REALLY impressive, Esposito has always been sharp, and you're the best. I know Castle is really smart. I know you guys are the top team in the city." He placed the folder on the floor, and opened the next one. "It's just; you guys make it feel like I'm intruding on your family." He put that file on the floor too, and looked at Beckett. "At least you didn't get rid of me like Lieutenant Douchebag." He opened the next file.

"If we made you feel unwelcome, it was totally unintentional." Beckett grinned and added, "unless it was Javi, who makes everyone feel unwelcome. But you are absolutely right, Tom. I've been so blessed with these guys. Esposito has been offered his own team each of the last three years, and Gates hinted that Ryan will get bumped this year and offered a team. Are you applying if there's an opening?"

"I guess I am. Your hours are a lot worse than Robbery, and your job's tougher because we already know the motive at all Robbery crime scenes, but I'd trade that for this kind of team." He handed another file to Beckett. "Why didn't Esposito take on his own team?"

"Well, **he** _says_ it would be like leaving the 98 Yankees or the 93 Chicago Bulls. **_I_** think he's chicken, and would miss us too much." Beckett smiled dangerously. "If you value your life, you won't repeat that."

Demming dropped two more files on the floor next to his chair. "Right. Do you think I could work with Castle?"

Beckett grinned. "You might not want to. When Castle first started, he used to correct Esposito's reports like they were homework assignments. He was unmerciful. He finally stopped when Espo threatened to drown him in red ink. Castle also used to win money from Ryan every day or two. He'd bet Ryan he'd be faster in research using only his cell phone, and he beat him consistently." Beckett received another file from Demming. "Of course, Esposito's reports are now flawless and are used to teach new detectives, and Ryan is a world class researcher who could get a job at any university."

Two more files hit the pile on the floor, followed by a third. "I invited most of Robbery to my wedding." Another file went. "What does Castle do for you?" Demming handed over a file with an embarrassed smile. "Besides the obvious."

"Truly? He pushes me out of my comfort zone. Always has." She looked up at Demming and smiled brilliantly. "I've loved his books since college. When he showed up six years ago, my vocabulary instantly doubled, my thinking became clearer and more intuitive, and I became a better cop procedurally. Most importantly, I started to have some fun."

Demming handed her two files. "That's the last ones. How many do we have?"

"Nine suspect cops left. Three from Robbery, five from IAD, and a Lieutenant from Administration. That's too many for probable cause, and if we pull any into interrogation they'll just clam up and get their union rep. Could you please find out which ones had last night or today off?"

Demming smiled and said, "Yes, boss" and took the remaining files to Karpowski's desk. Beckett put all nine cops pictures on the murder board, then wandered over to Esposito's desk. When Esposito finally hung up, she saw his look and asked, "What?"

"We are on our own for a while. There is a nut with a gun in a restaurant across from the University. Lots of student hostages. Could be a very long stand-off. There's also an ongoing gang fight between three separate groups in Hell's Kitchen, and a major bust of a huge meth lab scheduled tonight. ESU is tapped out."

"Damn! Nothing is easy on this case. Okay. You taught me your search and destroy motto from special ops. Find them. Fix them. Finish them. Let's see if we found them." She looked at Ryan and Castle, who were in a low voiced argument at Ryan's desk. "Gentlemen?"

Ryan looked up. "Castle thinks we only have two possible sites for the armored car, and I think we have a third. The first two are a trucking company that had a small fire and the other is a food packaging company that went bankrupt after a robbery. I also like an import-export warehouse that got shut down for smuggling, but Castle thinks it's too busy of a street."

"Are you kidding me?" Beckett was ecstatic. "Three sites possible out of seven hundred buildings! That's outstanding!" She lifted her forefinger to her lips, one of her 'thinking' poses. After a minute, she started pacing. "If we do this, we need to do it right. Esposito, do you think Hernandez is still available?" At Esposito's nod, she raised her voice to include Demming, who was coming over from where he'd been using the phone. "Okay. New teams. Javi, you're with Hernandez, Ryan's with Demming. We'll each take a building. Each team will have a fiber optic camera for snooping in windows and under doors."

"We are up against professionals who know our playbook, have lots of firepower, and are going to be super paranoid. So, no drive by. They know our cars. Look for cameras and lookout posts, and avoid them at all costs. Everybody change their clothes. You need to look like you belong in the Warehouse District in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. No loitering. Have a warrant ready to go for your property. If you find ANYTHING, back off and call in the warrant, then call the rest of us. Cell phones only. Demming?"

The Robbery Detective walked over to the murder board, and re-arranged the nine cop pictures. "These nine are our main suspects. Of these, the top three are enjoying a day off today. If you see any of these 3 cops, bail out and call the rest of the team."

Beckett looked around. "Any questions? Okay. Good Luck." The meeting broke up.


	12. Chapter 12

**Wednesday 4:03 pm**

**Warehouse District**

The team gathered around the back of Beckett's car on the 2nd floor of an old parking garage. Esposito took a piece of paper out of a a spiral notebook and laid it on the trunk. He drew a big rectangle twice as tall as it was wide. "Ok, this is the building." He added to the right side of the rectangle, drawing what looked like a 4 rung ladder. "There are two floors of offices on the right, or east, side." He then darkened two spots on the bottom of the square. "The front has both the main door and the truck entrance. There is a camera above the entrance, but I don't know if it's working." He then drew a short, squat, backwards question mark in the top 2/3rds of the rectangle. "This is what's left of an assembly line. There are also machines and pallets of boxes all along the assembly line." He then drew a two inch line parallel to the top of the rectangle but down an inch, which put it halfway between the top wall and the top of the backwards question mark. "Here's the armored car. It's still on the trailer, which still looks hooked to the tractor. The tarp still covers most of the armored car."

Esposito continued. "We managed to see all this using a fiber optic camera attached to a stick and held up near a 2nd story window on the north wall." He pointed to the top of the rectangle. "Three important points. The first is, they unloaded a lot of the stolen guns and ammo out of the white van, and it's all sitting between the truck and the north wall. It was practically right under the window."

"The second point is the white van itself. It's on the other side of the armored car, between it and the top of the assembly line."

Castle commented, "Well, that makes perfect sense. They probably need the room for the money in the van."

Beckett asked, "How much room do you need for forty million plus?"

"Depends. Denomination and packaging make a big difference. One large suitcase per million, so half of the van."

"Esposito, what's the third point?"

"Three people identified. None of them appear to be our cops. We watched for about three minutes. There's a compressor going and a hose running into the back of the armored car, so they're drilling or cutting or sawing. Whatever they are doing, it's hot in there, because they all came out for air at least twice."

Beckett looked over at Demming, who was listening to his cell phone. "Any word?"

Demming shook his head. "Hostage situation and gang fights still happening. Our old Captain thinks we might get some SWAT help in three or four hours."

"Ryan?"

"Warrant has been signed. We'll get an electronic copy any minute."

"Esposito, if we breached through the main entrance, what would happen?"

The Latino shook his head. "Nothing good. We'd be backlit by the open door or picture window, and would have to all squeeze left behind the assembly line or cover ninety open feet fully exposed against superior firepower."

"Espo, are there any other entrances?"

"Yeah, there's one off the alley near the back". He pointed to the right side of his sketch, almost at the top even with the armored car. "I don't know where it goes? Office? Hallway? Basement?"

"Castle?"

Castle refreshed his phone screen, where he had the floor plan. "Okay. Fire door goes into short hallway. Bathrooms on the right. Another fire door enters into the main room. Looks like an employee entrance."

"Esposito, can we get eyes in there?"

"Under the door only, if the camera fits. If one of those guys is using the bathroom at the wrong time, it'll ruin our day."

Ryan suggested, "Why don't we just surround the building and keep tabs on them? If they leave we'll pursue. That might be better than going in blind."

Beckett shook her head. "Then we end up with bad guys with lots of firepower out on the streets of New York City. That's the stuff of nightmares. Also, there's still a tiny chance that King or Ennis are alive. Esposito, no sign of them?"

He responded, "No, but if they ARE alive they would probably keep them restrained in one of the offices or the bathrooms." By his tone of voice, he didn't believe it.

"Wait!" Castle stepped forward. "We don't have to go in blind. We can keep our eyes on the camera screen, and know the three bad guys are still working in the armored car."

Esposito shook his head. "Cord's only twenty feet long."

"Yea, I know, but the camera's set up as Wi-fi ready. If I can get a signal, I can stream it to a website, then dial into the website from my phone. It would be like a one or two second delay."

Beckett asked, "Esposito?"

"Oh yeah, I like it. Good intel always wins. If we can access the main room through the employee entrance and surprise these three guys, it should be easy."

"Ryan?"

"I'm with you, boss."

"Demming?"

"Wow. You guys really ARE cowboys. What if we can't get a signal or can't breach the fire door?"

"Then we back out and we're no worse off."

Demming asked, "How do we go in?"

"Boys, jump in if you have corrections or comments". She then turned back to Demming. "Obviously, we kit up with vests. Everybody brings an extra magazine. I'll keep Hernandez on the camera on the north wall, because he has zero tactical training. He can monitor us and yell for help if we run into something. We stay stealthy when we breach the outside door. The five of us move in. You and I clear the bathrooms, because Ryan and Esposito will have the riot guns. Once cleared, we meet at the inner door. We wait for the right time, then breech the inner door, still stealthy. We'll go in a diamond formation, because we're used to each other and you need to see us. So, Javi in front, Ryan to the right, I've got left flank. As tail end Charlie, you come up and support whoever needs it. Once we've secured the three known perps, we clear the vehicles, and then we clear the offices. Questions?"

Ryan said, "Warrants in."

"Okay, let's do it." They all went to put on their vests, check their weapons, and grab the extra magazines. Beckett checked Castle's vest, and he checked hers. She gave him a hug and brushed his lips with hers, then looked him in the eye and scolded him, "You'll keep your head down in there, right?" At his nod, she turned for the stairs. They all followed Beckett down the steps of the garage, across the street and down an alley to the next block. They waved Hernandez over from his doorway where he'd had the building staked out, and informed him of the plan. They continued down the next alley, and paused while Castle took the camera and signed into his website. He started the stream, and then checked his phone. Beckett peaked at his screen. "Is that…?" she whispered.

Castle nodded. "The Nikki Heat website. It's the only one I have administrative rights to."

She shook her head. "I am so getting fired for this."

Soon, Castle's phone was filled with the same image as the camera, but a couple of beats later. The five left Hernandez, who had retrieved his stick and was raising the camera lens. They gathered outside the employee entrance and eyed Castle's screen. The faint noise of the compressor motor could be heard through the door. Demming handed Espo the extra camera, which he managed to squeeze under the door after a couple of tries. He spun the cable around, but every angle showed an empty, dimly lit hallway. He backed the camera out. Castle handed his phone to Beckett, then pulled out a small but very powerful cordless drill. He slapped it into Esposito's outstretched hand, who proceeded to drill and punch out the door's lock. As he handed the drill back to Castle, Castle's left hand grabbed the doorknob and turned it. Castle returned the drill to his back pocket while keeping his eyes on Beckett, who was watching the tiny phone screen. At her nod, he swung the door to him, so he was behind the door and the four cops were free to enter. Castle put his hand out and Beckett handed him the phone back as she followed Esposito in.

By the time Castle was in the hallway, Demming and Beckett were already clearing the bathrooms to the right. Ryan and Esposito had their police shotguns trained on the next door. First Beckett, then Demming emerged from their respective rooms and nodded. Castle handed his phone back to Beckett. They all arranged themselves the same way as they had been seconds ago when they entered the outer door.

This time, instead of punching the lock, they tested the door and found it unlocked. They were all looking at Beckett when they heard the compressor engine stop. Beckett raised her index finger in a wait gesture. After about two very nervous minutes, she smiled and flashed the phone around. The small image, looking from above and to the right of the armored car, showed 3 men manhandle big wrapped packages out of the armored car and down on to the bed of the trailer. She turned the phone so the orientation was the same, and showed the four men. She then handed the phone to Castle, and nodded her head. Castle swung the door open.


	13. Chapter 13

**Wednesday 4:17 pm**

**Warehouse District**

Beckett entered just behind Esposito's left shoulder. As soon as they cleared the door, Ryan drifted right towards the wall and she angled left towards the assembly line, spacing out their lines of fire. She could barely hear Demming's footsteps behind her and to her right. Castle stayed in the hallway.

The back of the trailer was thirty feet directly in front of Esposito. Ten feet further, the back of the armored car could be seen above them on the trailer bed, a bare bulb work light illuminating the broken doors and the scorched internal safes. Ryan had his riot gun trained on a man's back as he was pulling a large wrapped package of bills out of the back of the armored car. Esposito's shotgun was pointed at a man just to the left of the trailer, bent over to put a package in a wheelbarrow. Esposito floated left to get a better angle of fire, and Beckett matched his move, maintaining separation. Her Glock was in a two handed grip, pointed at the man who was wheeling a moving dolly towards the back of a white windowless van. The van was now 50 feet in front of Beckett, halfway up the left side of the big rig. Its doors were open, and a multitude of bundled packages were already stuffed inside.

Ryan's man yelled, "Cops!" and pulled a pistol from his belt in a lightning fast move. It wasn't nearly fast enough, as Ryan's shot hit him in the sternum. He spun around, reflexively fired a shot straight down into the truck bed, and dropped off the right side of the truck out of Beckett's line of vision. Ryan squeezed between a huge red tool box and the back of the trailer and disappeared between the trailer and the wall, too.

She could hear Esposito screaming "NYPD. NYPD. Freeze!" as he approached the middle man. The man had taken half a dozen steps towards the van, but now stopped and raised his hands. He turned around to face Esposito.

Beckett's man had ducked behind his money dolly, now only five feet from the back of the van. Suddenly, the van engine started. Shit! There was a fourth man in the van! Her man stood up with his hands raised, but started backing up towards the van. She yelled, "FREEZE! QUIT MOVING" as she continued to approach. When the van started moving, her man spun and dove through the open rear doors, yelling "Go. Go." Beckett quickly moved right and yelled, "ESPO! SWITCH!" She pointed her Glock at Esposito's man as Esposito ran forward, making sure not to cross into Beckett's line of fire. Beckett started yelling at Esposito's prisoner, now her prisoner, "GET ON YOUR KNEES NOW! GET ON YOUR KNEES NOW!"

She could see out of the corner of her eye Esposito stop, raise his weapon, and fire. The front right tire of the van exploded. Instead of the accelerating van turning left around the assembly line towards the front, it slid right and crashed hard into the far wall. She could see the driver bail out and run towards the front of the building, a long weapon in his hands.

By now she'd reached her prisoner. He was crying and babbling, "We were so close. So close". Beckett muttered, "Shut the hell up." She spun him around and when he wouldn't kneel despite the pressure she put on his left shoulder with her free hand, she expertly kicked his legs out from under him. He landed hard on his knees. "Get on your stomach now!" She pushed the crying man down the rest of the way, then straddled him on the back of his thighs. She patted him down, making sure he was weaponless. She holstered her weapon and took out her handcuffs. She cuffed his right wrist, pulled his left over, and cuffed that one too behind his back.

Before she had a chance to look around for teammates, a shot rang out and a bullet whizzed next to her head. She could hear the ricochet of the near miss carom off the side of the armored car. Without conscious thought, she took three quick steps and dove head first behind a pallet stacked with boxes, like a runner going into second base. Unfortunately, nobody was yelling 'safe'. She had her hands covering her head, lying prone on the finished concrete. If she could have dug a hole and hid under the concrete, she would. Her terrified internal voice was babbling _'They're shooting a rifle at me! A fucking rifle! I know rifles! I hate rifles! I don't believe it! Another fucking rifle!'_ Three shots from someone's pistol rang out behind her and to her left. Demming, trying to pin down the sniper. Another rifle shot and a box on her pallet just three feet above her head sported a new bullet hole. Little microscopic packing material bits started floating down on her. As her ears registered the passing bullet, she rolled to her right three times until she was at the end of the pallet. She was ten feet from decent cover, something more solid than empty cardboard boxes. She got up on all fours and crawled quickly, looking like an ungainly and petrified crab. She ducked behind an I-beam pillar and a squat, bulky, and blessedly metallic packing machine. It had seemed like the longest ten feet in Beckett's life.

As she cowered behind the machine, she could see Esposito next to the front fender of the truck, pointing his gun at the back of the van. He was talking to someone to his right, so Ryan must be up there as well, which meant Demming was back with Ryan's prisoner in an over watch position. She took a deep breath, re-drew her weapon, and stood up behind the vertical I-beam. It felt like the bravest thing she'd ever done. Using the machine as cover, she peaked out.

The driver of the van was pointing an M16 rifle in her general direction, walking sideways along the west wall toward the front of the building, partially covered by the far end of the assembly line. Moving slowly and staying as covered as possible, she laid out her weapon on the surface of the machine and took aim. At this range, it would be sheer luck to hit him, but maybe she could scare the bastard and get him to take cover. She fired two quick shots.

Both clearly misses, but they had the desired effect. The man, too far away to be identified, skittered behind a big box. Beckett was lining up another shot, hoping her target was hiding behind empty boxes like she had, when she heard Castle's frightened voice scream her name behind her and to her left. She instinctively turned her head in that direction, and saw a stranger 30 feet directly behind her.

In the space between two heartbeats, she realized three things. The first was the man behind her was on their suspect list, an Internal Affairs Detective named Kauthman, and must have been hiding upstairs or in the offices they'd bypassed. The second thing was that he was holding one of those combat shotguns, an AA-12, currently pointed at the floor but coming up at her.

The third thing she realized was that she was going to die. A 12-gauge at that range didn't even have to be pointed at her, it could miss by ten feet in any direction and the expanding buckshot spread would shred her. The I-beam at her left shoulder blocked a move in that direction. She spun her head back around to the right, a pirouette, trying to get her sluggish body to follow. She felt like she was moving in molasses. Her thoughts were morbid. '_I'm glad Lanie's on vacation. My autopsy is going to be an unholy mess. Serves Perlmutter right for being such an ass. I'm so sorry, Castle!_'

As her head came around she noticed that Esposito, seeing that she'd had the sniper pinned behind some boxes, had started to move towards the guy hiding in the van. No help from there – Espo wins the 'Bad Timing Award'. A pistol shot rang out from what was now her right – from behind the trailer. Demming's position. Kauthman was hit in the side and back. He spun ninety degrees to his right, and his shotgun boomed.

The side windows and mirror of the big rig blew out, and Esposito, caught out in the middle halfway between the truck and the van, went down so fast it was like he'd stepped through a trapdoor. What the buckshot did to Beckett's prisoner, handcuffed on the floor ten feet directly in front and below the shotgun blast, was indescribable. Another pistol shot rang out from behind the trailer, this one aimed higher. It hit Kauthman in the side of his head, and seeing the pink mist from the exit wound Beckett knew he was dead. Kauthman's corpse hadn't started falling yet, and Beckett was already moving towards Esposito.

The shotgun boomed to her right as she ran past: Kauthman's body hitting the floor with his fingers still around the trigger. Another boom and another and another as the drum emptied; all aimed at and under the side of the armored car and trailer. Then a huge, rippling explosion from over near the wall under the windows. The shock wave knocked Beckett to her knees. She looked over. The truck and trailer actually ROSE up and tilted to her side before settling down again. A fireball mushroomed along the concrete wall, spreading up above the windows and around the ceiling 40 feet above them before dissipating, leaving the room seemingly much darker. Every window and lightbulb in their part of the building was shattered, and Beckett wondered if she'd gone deaf. "Jesus Christ" she moaned, both a curse and a prayer, as the sprinkler system kicked on.

She scrambled back to her feet. She snatched her two-way radio and called, "Dispatch, this is One Lincoln Forty, I have an officer down, I need an ambulance NOW. This location." She looked to her left at a flash of light and saw the sniper exit through the front door, running for his life. She kept her gun pointed at the back of the van, and skidded to a stop next to Esposito, who Ryan was already crouched over and working on. Blood was SPURTING from his leg, and Ryan was using one of his hideous ties as a tourniquet. Beckett, somehow, managed to tear her front shirt tail off left-handed, and knelt down clapping it to the upper leg wound. She glanced at Esposito's mangled lower leg and felt nauseated.

Ryan FINALLY finished the knot, and the blood spurt slowed to a trickle. Beckett kept pressure on the wound, her hand slick with blood and water from the sprinkler. She said to the very glassy-eyed Esposito, "Hang in there, Javi. Help is on the way." Demming ran up from her left, panting heavily and looking wild-eyed, his pistol still in his hand. She was amazed he'd survived the explosion, but was ecstatic to see him. Keeping pressure on Esposito's thigh wound, she yelled at the van "NYPD. You in the van. Come out with your hands up. I'm going to count to three. ONE." She shot a bullet through the roof of the van. "TWO." She put a bullet through the rear safety glass.

"Hold it. Hold your fire. I'm coming out." The guy, who'd dove into the back of the van seemingly ages ago, backed out with his hands raised. Demming moved in to cuff him. As soon as he had him subdued, she holstered her weapon and picked up her two way again. "Dispatch, this is One Lincoln Forty, where the HELL is that bus?"

She heard "One Lincoln Forty, ambulance is four minutes out."

She grabbed Esposito's hand and held it. Ryan was working on wrapping his lower leg with strips from his shirt. Esposito was fading in and out. He'd lost a lot of blood, but he didn't have the pallor of someone bleeding to death. When Demming squatted down, she looked at him and said, "I think Espo is going to make it. Thank you. You saved my life."

Demming just stared at her, still panting heavily. "What?"

Demming must be in shock. She explained, like talking to a child, "Taking out Kauthman. The guy with the shotgun. You saved my life. Good shooting."

"Beckett, I broke left when we received the rifle fire."

She stared at Ryan, who stared back, eyes wide. Oh my God. She had totally lost tactical awareness after the M16 shots were fired. Demming just came up from her _left_, which meant …

"Rick." She breathed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Thursday 10:43 am**

**3****rd**** Precinct Conference Room**

Beckett took a tiny sip of water before continuing in her monotone. "With the last remaining suspect captured and restrained, and Detective Esposito stabilized, I proceeded to check the scene of the explosion. It was … chaotic."

Between the smoke, the internal rain from the sprinkler system, and the dust, it was hard to see anything distinctly. There were small fires still burning, broken and upended boxes, bits of smoldering tarp and cardboard floating in the air, unexploded ordinance, scorched concrete and metal, and the acrid stench of chemical explosives and burning rubber. It looked like a Hieronymous Bosch painting of Hell.

"The tarp had either been blown or burnt off the armored car, and I could see two corpses in the cab. It has since been determined those bodies belonged to the Gotham Security personnel Ennis and King, who had been killed in the initial robbery by the pressure wave of the anti-tank round."

She felt a hand cover hers, and looked down. The attorney, Miller, was showing her his cell phone screen. She had to focus on it to make out the words. It read:

_Fingerprints a match. Be there in 10._

_V. Gates_

Beckett nodded. She returned to staring at her microphone, content to sit in silence until Gates showed up.

After half a minute, Lieutenant Robinson broke the silence. "Something interesting on your phone, Counselor?"

Miller leaned forward, calmly stated "Yes" and leaned back in his chair again. This prompted Assistant Commissioner Hayes, Chief of Detectives Cavillo, Captain Melrose, and Captain Basso to check their phones. Seeing the activity of his superiors, Robinson asked, "Anything you'd care to share with the class, Mr. Miller?"

Miller repeated his forward lean, and replied "No".

The big Lieutenant's red face got redder. "Fine. Although Detective Beckett's report is not yet complete, I have several questions I'd like to put to her. Detective Beckett. You have reported that you left a trained member of the NYPD, Officer Hernandez, outside the building HOLDING A STICK while you took an untrained and unarmed civilian with you on a dangerous raid. Do you think that was smart?"

Beckett replied, "No sir."

Robinson waited for her to elaborate. When she didn't, he asked, "What would you call it then?"

"Selfish." She added, her voice bitter, "The manual requires, when attempting to apprehend dangerous felons that are considered a danger to the community, for NYPD personnel to use any and all resources at their disposal." For the first time since her testimony began, Beckett showed a little emotion. It was self-contempt. "What resource could be better than a man who loves you, and has proven he'd give his life for you? Sir."

Robinson renewed his attack. "You know, Detective, that we only have your word for these events. By your own admission a civilian, Richard Castle, your boyfriend, shot and killed Detective Andy Kauthman, a decorated NYPD veteran and a personal friend of mine. How do we know it was to prevent him from shooting you? It could be…"

Miller put a restraining hand on Beckett's wrist, leaned forward, and snapped, "Robinson. You are crossing a line you're going to regret. If you were a halfway competent investigator, you would have already viewed the video, and wouldn't be wasting everybody's time."

Robinson sneered, "Like I need some defense shyster to teach me how to do my job."

Miller's smile had no humor in it. "Lieutenant Robinson. Allow me to fully introduce myself. My name is Gary Miller, and I am the lead investigator for the Department of Justice here in New York. I am going to make certain that you remember it. It's too bad stupidity isn't a federal crime, because you'd get life without parole."

The Assistant Commissioner, Allison Hayes, spoke up for the first time. "Shut-up, Robinson. I don't care who you're related to, you're an embarrassment to this department." She looked at Miller, worry creasing her face. "Counselor, you mentioned a video. What video?"

Miller explained, "As Detective Beckett testified, Officer Hernandez was using a camera that was streamed to an internet site. Hernandez continued to film as he was calling in back-up once the fireworks started. It was the only way he could see what was happening inside."

"So where is this video now?" the Assistant Commissioner asked.

"The video from the raid is still on the 'Nikki Heat' website."

"What! Why? Can we take it down?"

Miller shook his head. "Richard Castle was the only one we are aware of that had the administration rights. He's also the owner and host. We would need a Federal Court order, which we probably couldn't get, and anyway we've had higher priorities today. So, in a word, no." Miller added maliciously, "On the brighter side, it only has 30,000 hits since yesterday."

Hayes put her head in her hands. "Oh, my dear God in Heaven."

The double doors opened behind Beckett and Miller, admitting Captain Gates, a very haggard looking Tom Demming, and several other plain-clothed and uniformed cops. Gates stopped next to Beckett and rested her hand briefly on her shoulder.

Robinson, after risking a peek at Hayes, said, "Excuse me Captain, but we're still in a meeting here."

"No you're not." She turned and greeted her friends and superiors. "Good morning, Commissioner Hayes. Ted. Mike. Chris." She then stepped around the big table and stood behind Cavillo. "Detective Demming. Would you care to do the honors?"

Demming stared at the man at the end of the table. "Andrew Boling, you are under arrest for conspiracy, armed robbery, assault, and six counts of murder in the first degree. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you."

Boling had stood up. "What is this, Tom?"

"Do you understand these rights?"

"Come on, are you …"

"DO YOU?"

"Yes, I understand my rights. Why are you doing this?"

Demming shook his head. "Boling, we found your prints."

Boling said hotly, "Where? At the armored car raid site? We were ALL there until midnight last night, processing the scene. I may have taken my gloves off on occasion, but it was hot in there."

Deming shook his head, his voice cold. "No, Boling. On the forklift at the Red Hook warehouse. On my badge in my desk drawer. And on two shotgun shells INSIDE the drum magazine."

"That's nothing. Those can all be explained. You're crazy if …." Boling suddenly went quiet, a look of terror on his face.

Demming wheeled around. Beckett had stood and was staring at Boling, her face contorted with rage. Her right hand was moving slowly and inexorably towards her holster in the small of her back. As she grabbed her Glock, Demming on one side and the attorney Miller on the other side grabbed her wrist, keeping down pressure on her arm as she tried to draw her weapon. She didn't say anything, didn't struggle, just continued to try to pull her weapon. Demming started to whisper to her, "Not now, Kate. Not like this. He wouldn't want this, Kate. "

Beckett finally let go of her weapon. She sat down and buried her face in her hands.

The COD, Cavillo, asked, "Detective Demming, are you still on assignment with Homicide Team Alpha?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Mr. Boling. These officers are going to take you to an interrogation room here in your own precinct. However, if there isn't a complete confession written out in your own hand and signed within one hour, I'm asking Detective Demming to transfer you to the 12th precinct. I'm sure they'll be able to entertain you better."

As Boling was being cuffed, he was still staring at Beckett, and still looked scared. "You can't do that!"

"I just did."

Boling was led away by a couple of the uniforms. After several minutes Beckett finally looked up, and saw Gates had Robinson in the corner of the room. She must have been reading him the riot act, because the big Lieutenant's head was bobbing like a schoolboy's. The energy was practically crackling off of the Captain, and Beckett wished she could just tap a small portion of that electricity. She felt so tired, so listless. In another minute, Gates broke away from the IAD man and walked over to Beckett. Her eyes were kind.

"Detective Beckett. Kate. Lieutenant Robinson has graciously volunteered to complete any and all paperwork for your entire team. He's insisting on staying until it's all done perfectly, no matter how long it takes. Why don't you go take care of yourself for a change?" She motioned over Detective Hastings, now posted here at the 3rd. "You are officially off the job for as long as you need. Detective Hastings will take you wherever you want to go."

"Thank you, Sir." Beckett stood and escaped the room.


	15. Chapter 15

**Thursday 11:04 am**

**3rd Precinct Conference Room**

As they left the conference room, Detective Ann Hastings looked at Beckett, and noticed her slightly smudged eye makeup. She paused on the way out of the 3rd precinct, pointing to the Ladies Room. "You might want to freshen up a bit, Detective Beckett."

Beckett nodded and entered the restroom. Hastings cooled her heels in the hallway, reflecting on the woman Captain Gates had asked her to transport 'Anywhere she wants'. Beckett had been a hero of hers since she'd joined the force; partially because of their similar histories, partially due to the way she'd been treated by Beckett during their investigation into her vigilante history. Her main reasons for admiring Beckett, though, washer bad ass reputation and her incredible success as a lead homicide detective. It had been an unvoiced dream of the newly promoted detective 3rd grade to put in her two years in narcotics, and then transfer onto Beckett's team. Of course, probably half the newly minted detectives on the force felt the same way. For her hero to go through what she'd had to endure over the past two days was appalling to Hastings.

Beckett emerged from the restroom. To Hastings' surprise, Beckett hadn't fixed her eye make-up, but had washed it all off. They swung through the precinct's front doors. Adding to the glare of the bright sunlight were half a dozen Television cameras. The reporters were four and five deep surrounding the front steps, yelling questions at 'Detective Beckett' and 'Nikki Heat'. Beckett ducked her head and shielded her face as Hastings fought through the reporters to the car. They both got in and Hastings started it up and swung out into traffic.

"Where to, Detective Beckett?"

"Mount Sinai, please, Ann."

Hastings was pleased that Beckett had remembered her first name, but disappointed that their destination was only five minutes away. As she swung through the traffic and turned on Lexington Avenue, she commented, "You know, Detective Beckett, you look better with no make-up than any of the rest of us do with ours on."

Beckett gave her an indecipherable look, then returned to staring out the windshield. After a couple of minutes of silence, Beckett announced flatly, "Always is a lie."

Hastings wasn't sure she'd heard her correctly, because it made no sense to her. "Excuse me, Detective?"

Instead of repeating herself, Beckett asked, "Are you still with that reporter, Ann? What was his name? Paul Whitaker?"

Hastings was doubly pleased that Beckett wanted to talk, and had remembered her boyfriend's name. She turned on to 40th. "Yes, Paul and I are still together. We're really looking forward to getting married next month."

As soon as it came out of her mouth, Hastings realized her mistake. She was mortified. That had to be the most insensitive thing she'd ever said in her life. She could _feel _her blood flush her face. She probably couldn't have found anything more hurtful to say to Beckett if she'd taken a graduate course in Cruelty. She glanced at Beckett out of the corner of her eye, not knowing what to expect.

Beckett was still staring straight out the windshield, nodding her head. She asked, "When do you get off work today, Detective?"

"I'm scheduled until four, ma'am, but I'm happy to work longer if I can help." Hastings pulled into a 'Tow Away Zone' fifty feet from the front doors of the hospital. "Would you like me to wait here for you?"

Beckett was still nodding, still staring straight ahead. "Alright, Ann. Here's what I want you to do. This is a direct order from a superior. I want you to go find Paul wherever he is. If he's in a meeting or press conference, pull him out. If he objects, arrest him for 'Resisting'. Once he's out, I want you to give him a great big kiss. Tell him you love him. Hug …" Beckett's breath caught, and she was quiet for a second. Two seconds. Three seconds."Hug him like there's no tomorrow."

Beckett turned to look at Hastings, and Ann gasped. Hastings had consoled family members after traffic fatalities and OD's. She'd helped victims of rape immediately after the crime. She couldn't recall ever seeing a pair of eyes filled with so much pain. The anguish appeared bottomless. The thought that she had added an ounce of agony to Beckett's soul with her thoughtless remark horrified her. Her eyes misting, she nodded her head and said, "Yes, ma'am."

Beckett opened the car door, stepped out, and then swung it shut. She bent down and looked back at Ann, resting her forearms in the open car window. She had the ghost of a smile on her face. To Hastings, it was the saddest smile she'd ever seen, the perfect companion for those tortured eyes. "Then Ann, I want you to take Paul back to your place and fuck his brains out. I'll approve the overtime." Beckett straightened up and started for the hospital doors.

A sob escaped Hastings, as sudden and unexpected as a hiccup …. and as unstoppable. She began her well rehearsed mantra when she found herself in tough emotional situations. _Stop it, Ann. You're tough. You took down two meth heads single handedly last week. You were first responder to that bus accident on the FDR. Toughen up. _She looked through the windshield and spied Beckett. Her idol was shuffling forward, head bent and shoulders bowed, a broken woman. A second sob escaped Hastings, followed immediately by a third. Her misting eyes overflowed, spilling tears down her cheeks. She put the car in gear and pulled blindly out into traffic, narrowly missing a cab. At the intersection, she turned left, away from the precinct and towards the newspaper offices.


	16. Chapter 16

**Thursday 11:12 am**

**Mount Sinai Hospital**

Beckett entered the lobby and started for the elevator banks in the rear. Halfway there she heard a familiar voice yell "Hey Beckett!" She looked up to see Ryan exiting the elevators she was headed for. She thought, '_You know you're having a crappy day when one of your favorite people in the world greets you, and your first thought is 'Oh shit!''_

Ryan was talking on the phone as he approached, looking at the floor. "No, don't take the subway, I'm on my way there now … Sure! We can come back together, then go to your appointment from here … okay, listen, I gotta go. I want to talk to Beckett … I love you too …..See you then. Bye." He hung up the phone and started, "Hey, Boss, I'm j …" Ryan stopped, a shocked look on his face.

_No wonder_, thought Beckett_, I probably look sixty. I feel one hundred_. She asked, "How's Esposito?"

Ryan shrugged, a little embarrassed to be caught gaping. "Javi is Javi. He's a little out of it, but he's still giving the nurses a hard time."

"Well, if Lanie catches him, she has access to lots of sharp objects."

Ryan grinned. "Oh, good. You got a hold of her?"

Beckett nodded. "She was planning on coming back tomorrow anyway, so I told her there was no hurry. But you know Lanie! I expect she'll get back sometime today."

Ryan asked, more seriously, "And Mrs. R?"

Beckett grimaced. "Her off-Broadway show must be way off Broadway, because she was somewhere in the far north of Wisconsin. Her plane will land in about half an hour."

"And Little Castle?"

Beckett massaged her forehead with her right hand. "She's in Paris with her Mom. I didn't get her on the phone until four this morning. I don't know when she'll get here." She looked at Ryan, her expression bleak. "She hung up on me, Kevin."

"Hey, Boss, Alexis is smart. She'll figure it out, eventually. It wasn't your fault!"

Suddenly, Beckett was furious with Ryan, with everybody. Why didn't anybody 'get it'? She had expected Ryan, at least, to understand. "How in the HELL wasn't it my fault, Ryan? It was MY plan. Mine! MY decision. I'm the one that pushed for us to go in. ME! Not Esposito. Not you. Not Demming. Not … him. ME! I'm the one that lost tactical awareness." She was yelling at Ryan like a crazy woman, but she could no more stop these words then she could stop a wave from breaking on the beach. "The list of my screw-ups is long and impressive. I did not wait long enough to gather meaningful intel. I dragged an untrained civilian and three outgunned teammates into a firefight with an unknown number of hostiles with explosives, grenades, and AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. AUTOMATIC FUCKING SHOTGUNS. I didn't clear the rooms to our rear. I didn't wait for ESU. I didn't ask the feds for help. I didn't wait until we had a tactical or strategic advantage. I WALKED US ALL INTO A SLAUGHTER HOUSE."

By now, everybody in the lobby had stopped to stare at Beckett. A security guard started walking towards them. Beckett continued, her eyes blazing. "SO PLEASE STOP TELLING ME IT WASN'T MY FAULT. I'll tell you what. The next time we go up against five homicidal psychos armed to the teeth, you can call in Jenny for backup! That would work! She's smart! She doesn't need training, she'll pick it up! But until that happens, please STOP! I am SICK of people telling me IT'S NOT MY FAULT!"

Ryan grabbed Beckett's elbow in a 'come-along' grip and steered her into a deserted alcove to the side, flashing his badge around. Beckett's tirade had wound down, and now she was staring at others around her, looking like she wanted to tear someone's head off. The hospital security guard took one look at her and veered off towards the exit.

They stopped in the alcove, and Beckett finally focused on Ryan. The younger detective looked completely crushed. A wave of guilt washed over Beckett. Here she was, standing with one of the very few people she loved unconditionally, who still loved her, and she had just unloaded on him. Big time. She was SUCH a fuck-up.

She closed her eyes to try to stop the tears from leaking, but was too late. She stood there quivering, her arms at her side, digging her fingernails into her palms, trying to keep it together. She could feel the rigid control that she'd maintained since the raid start to slip. "I can't do this anymore, Kevin" she whispered. Her voice sounded like it used to when she was a little girl.

She felt Ryan's arms encircle her, his chin on her shoulder. He murmured, "I'm here Kate" and she completely lost it. Huge, wracking sobs emerged from deep down in her soul. She threw her arms around Ryan and held on for dear life.

She wept. Then she wept some more. She could … not … stop … crying. Every time she thought she'd gained even a modicum of control, a new surge of grief engulfed her. Her face was buried in Ryan's now sodden shoulder, and she couldn't catch her breath. She thought back to what … he … had said yesterday. 'Even when the world, as she knew it, was burnt to ashes.'

Was that just yesterday? It seemed a long time ago. It was, in fact, a lifetime ago. His life. Her life. All now ashes. She wasn't crying for today's loss. Or, not just for today's loss. She was crying because she had lost all her tomorrows.

Whoever had said that crying was supposed to make you feel better was an idiot.

Her tears and gasps finally tapered off. She felt like she'd been weeping for hours. She put her hands on Ryan's shoulders and pushed off to step back, the air feeling like a cool breeze on her wet face. She grinned wryly at him, noting the tear tracks down his face. Well, he was certainly a subdued cryer, because she had neither heard nor felt him. She sniffed, took a huge breath, blew it out through pursed lips, and said, "Wow."

"Yeah" agreed Ryan. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, offering it to Beckett.

She shook her head. "No, you go ahead."

He reached into a back pocket, and pulled out another one. "I have two." He started wiping his cheeks.

She took the handkerchief, wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. She said the first thing that came to her mind. "You carry two handkerchiefs? You are SUCH a boy scout." Her smile, though small, was the first smile she'd worn in forever.

He shrugged, a similar tiny smile gracing his face. He said, "I have to run. I'm picking up Jenny and then we're coming back here. I'll see you soon." Beckett tried to hand him back his handkerchief. He scowled and said, "I don't think so."

She nodded, and stuffed the hanky in her pocket. "Ok. I'll see you." She turned to find a Ladies Room.


	17. Chapter 17

**Thursday 11:43 am**

**Mount Sinai Hospital**

Beckett stood outside the door and fixed a smile on her face. She certainly hoped it looked better than it felt, because the smile felt forced and artificial. She opened the door and walked into Esposito's private room. The curtain around his bed was drawn back, and she saw the bed had been raised to put him into a sitting position. He was lying there contemplating a food tray. He looked up, smiled, and called "Hey, _Jefe_!"

"Hey, Javi. What's for lunch?"

"Jello, jello, and more jello." He pronounced it 'hello'. He turned his face up as Beckett reached the bed. She bent down, gave him a kiss on the lips, then an awkward hug which put her left cheek on his left cheek, her face in the pillow. She held the hug for several seconds, then straightened up. Grabbed his hand in hers. Then, as she had planned, she shifted her gaze down to the bottom of the bed, to where his right leg and foot should have been. She stared down there for several seconds, then back up again to his face. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and regret. She squeezed his hand.

Esposito flashed a small smile. "Thank you." He squeezed back.

"For what?"

"For looking. Ryan was here for an hour this morning, and refused to look below my chin. I was beginning to feel like a naked chick in a monastery."

"Esposito! That comment is so wrong on so many levels, I don't even know where to begin."

"Oh, well, I'm going to blame the drugs. How are you doing?"

"Me? I'm not the one lying in a hospital bed with morphine and plasma dripping into him."

"Maybe not, but Hey! I still look good. No offense, boss, but you look like shit."

"Offense taken. Keep it up and I'll bring in my book of short jokes."

"Didn't you hear? New prosthetics. In three months I'm going to be seven feet tall."

"Yea? On one side? How would that work for you?" She squeezed his hand again. "Seriously, Javi, how much did they have to take?"

"Kate, they saved the whole knee. If infection doesn't set in, I can start rehab in two weeks, and get fitted for new parts in two months, be back on the job in four." He tried to shift positions, and obviously felt a great deal of pain based on his intense grip on Beckett's hand. "You know, there was a guy who lost more in the Boston bombing, and he ran the entire marathon this year. And he was from Bah-ston. I figure this New York boy can do much better than that." It was an article of faith with Esposito that a Yankee fan would outshine a Red Sox fan in any endeavor.

"Esposito, you hate to run."

The door swung open, admitting two nurses, one young and pretty and the other obviously a veteran of many years. Esposito smiled at the younger one. "You need to bring in a chaperone now, Chica? What's wrong? Afraid you can't control yourself?"

In her driest voice, Beckett commented, "I seriously doubt that's what she's afraid of, Javier."

Both nurses smiled at her. The older one said, "We need to change Detective Esposito's dressings now. You can wait here or outside, your preference."

"Espo?"

He squeezed her hand again. "If you can stay, that'd be great, Beckett."

"Okay. I'll just wait in that chair." She walked over to it and sat. She quickly realized it had a recline feature, and just as quickly utilized it. She closed her eyes as they drew the drapes closed around Esposito's bed. She had started the day exhausted, and the crying jag downstairs had totally drained her. Maybe if she took a quick power nap . . .

A timeless span later, she heard the door swoosh open and Kevin and Jenny's voices greet Esposito. She thought, '_Oh good. I can tell Jenny congratulations and say hello'_ but, try as she might, she could not open her eyes. She could distinctly hear them talking, so she wasn't asleep, but she couldn't DO anything but lie there, so she wasn't awake. It was like she was in some strange twilight zone, an anti-fugue state. She got tired of trying to wake up, and decided to just relax and go with the flow, maybe get a couple more minutes of rest.

Esposito was whispering, "No, don't wake her. I don't think she's slept this week".

Jenny asked, "How long has she been here?"

"Almost an hour. We talked for awhile, then when the nurses came in she grabbed the chair."

Ryan asked, "How did she seem to you, partner?"

"She's Beckett. She's stepping up and taking the full weight. She's a mess."

"Javi, she had a complete meltdown in the lobby this morning. I've never seen anything like it. It was like watching Superman bleed or something."

Jenny said, "Well, think of what she must be going through. I hope she's as strong as you two have always been telling me."

"I don't know, Sweetie" Kevin responded, "You didn't see her. She still has do look forward to Castle's Mother and daughter who aren't even here yet, make the arrangements, all that stuff."

Esposito commented, "I've seen this in the service: Senior non-coms and officers that were involved in missions that were total clusters, where everything went wrong. The best ones always stepped up, always accepted the blame. Then, after the disaster, they had to answer a lot of questions from superiors and rear-echelon morons, and after that they still had to look forward to writing those letters. It broke a lot of good men. We even had a name for it. We'd say they 22'd."

"22?" asked Ryan, "like in caliber?"

"No, not caliber, like in the Psalm … you know, Psalm 22 … Old Testament Psalms … Hello? I thought you Irish kids went to church every Sunday."

"Hey, Pal, in our parish we read the weekly bulletin, the four gospels, and Saint Paul … in that order. What is Psalm 22?"

Jenny, in a small, tear-laden voice. "My God, my God, Why have you forsaken me?"

"That's it."

Ryan whispered. "Jesus Christ." A long, heavy silence fell, broken by Ryan asking, "Did these Officers and non-coms recover?"

Esposito sighed. "A few." The silence was even longer and heavier.

Ryan's voice. "I'd like to help her, but I don't even know where to start. She can't even say his name aloud."

Jenny said, "Give her time, Kev. It's been less than a day. Does anybody know how the hearing went this morning?"

"Nope. I haven't heard yet."

"Me either. Hey, Ryan, when's your hearing?"

Jenny asked, "What hearing?"

Esposito whispered, "Uh-oh!"

"Honey, I was going to tell you later at the doctor's office. I, um, apparently screwed up last night."

A long, loud sigh from Jenny. "What happened?"

"Well, after the gunfight, the entire world showed up all at once. One minute we were all by ourselves, and the next minute the place was filled with firemen, ambulances, and cops. Apparently, Javi's boy Hernandez started screaming for the cavalry as soon as the shit hit the fan. We were getting Detective Loudmouth here and Castle to the ambulances when this IAD clown, Lieutenant Dou... er, Lieutenant Robinson tried to block Beckett from staying with Castle because he wanted a full debrief. Immediately. After finding Castle, Beckett wouldn't let go of him, just kept repeating 'I'm so sorry' over and over. She totally ignored this guy. When they were wheeling Castle out, the asshat actually tried to physically GRAB Beckett! So I, um, kind of handcuffed him to a fire truck."

"AFTER pulling your weapon on him."

"Esposito, can you keep your mouth shut for just one minute?"

"No."

"ANYWAY, Hernandez showed up here last night when Espo was still in surgery. He told me that the acoustics in that place were so bad, nobody heard Lieutenant Asshat yelling for help for over twenty minutes. Yeah, right! Gates told me last night that I was on desk duty until she could straighten it out." After a moment, Ryan continued. "Another strange thing Hernandez told me. He said, last night at the scene, Perlmutter totally broke down. He was supposed to be taking measurements from around the blast site and where we found Castle, and they found him on his hands and knees bawling his eyes out. He couldn't get it together to work. They grabbed a Brooklyn ME and sent Perlmutter home. I thought he and Castle hated each other."

Esposito said, "Do you remember the time when those two old guys, identical twins, were both killed in that car wreck? And Castle kept sneaking into the morgue and switching the bodies, so Perlmutter didn't know which one he was working on. The M.E. was SO mad. Lanie didn't stop laughing for weeks."

"Or the time" Ryan was adding enthusiastically "Perlmutter created the Little Orphan Annie loop?"

Jenny sounded puzzled. "Little Orphan Annie?"

"You see, honey, there were these three college kids who decided to start this fight in this biker bar, with the inevitable results. One of the kids died in the hospital, and we caught the case. Permlutter was asked to recreate the scene digitally for court."

Esposito took up the tale. "So Perlmutter, somehow, recreates the entire fight sequence. Then he photo-shopped Castle's face on the three vics."

Ryan chuckled. "THEN he photo-shopped pictures of Little Orphan Annie on to all the bikers. Must have taken him HOURS. So what he ended up with was a computer generated three minute video of a dozen leather-clad Little Orphan Annie's kicking the snot out of three preppy Castles. He showed it in the squad room. Everyone was in hysterics, especially Beckett. Castle was appalled. Perlmutter kept telling him, 'The identities of the individuals is superfluous, Mr Castle, only the physical sequence of events is relevant.'"

Espo added, "Kevin and I used it as our screen saver for a month. Castle had to bribe us to take it down."

"Bribe you?"

"Yeah, remember that double date with Lanie and me when we had those floor-side seats when the Miami Heat came to town?"

Jenny's tentative, "Yeah?"

"Well, there you go."

"You guys can be so mean!"

"Don't worry, Honey, Castle gave as good as he got."

Esposito again. "When I close my mind to picture Castle, I keep seeing him cowering in the break room after Beckett had booby-trapped the Espresso machine."

In a much more subdued voice, Ryan said "I keep seeing him last night." After a pause, he added "Ah, Honey? We need to go to your doctor's appointment soon. Do you want to use the rest room before we go?"

"I don't have to ... oh, okay. I'll just be a minute?"

"That'd be fine." After the sound of the bathroom door closing, Ryan asked "What?"

"Tell me what happened after I went down yesterday."

"I did."

"No. Tell me about Castle."

"Jesus, Javier. It wasn't pretty. Castle had followed us in, and was between the armored car and the wall near the guy I'd killed. When Kauthman came out with the shotgun, he yelled a warning to Beckett. Apparently, he picked up the 44 that my guy had dropped when I knocked him off the trailer. His first shot hit Kauthman, but didn't put him down. Kauthman got off the round that took you out, then Castle delivered the kill shot. When the shotgun started emptying its magazine, Castle took cover behind that big, rolling toolbox. Those assholes put a GRENADE as the last round in the shotgun. It flew under the trailer, and set off the ammo for the recoilless rifle. Demming said the whole rig lifted off the ground three feet. The toolbox slammed into Castle, swatting him like a fly. He probably never felt a thing. He ended up right next to the door where we entered, thirty feet away."

Ryan could be heard sniffling. "He saved our asses, Javi. I was in front of the truck tire, or the shotgun blast that caught you would have knocked me out of operation, too. Beckett and Demming were exposed, and would have been stuck between the M16 and Kauthman."

"And Beckett?"

"She thought Demming had followed me, and was the one that took out the shotgun. When she realized it was Castle, she took off and ran THROUGH a bunch of unexploded and burning ammo. By the time I got over there, after the EMTs had arrived for you, she was sitting on the ground with Castle's head in her lap. His right side had been slightly burned, and he was bleeding pretty much from his left ear, but he was still breathing. She wasn't crying. She was rocking him like a baby, saying 'Sorry' and making shushing noises like she was putting him to sleep. It was ... it was ... heartbreaking."

They were quiet for a while, then Esposito said "Okay. Thanks."

The bathroom door opened. "Kevin, we have to go."

"Yeah, I know, just give me a sec. I'll see you later today, Javi. I'm going to hit the head real quick." The bathroom door swooshed again.

"Be good, Javier. Take those meds. It doesn't help anybody to lie there in pain."

"Yes, ma'am. Hey Jenny, with one thing and another, I haven't congratulated you yet. Way to go on numero dos. Is it going to be a boy or a girl?"

"It's a little early to tell. You can't see the boy parts until about month four or five."

"Well, he's Irish. It might not be until month seven."

"Javier Esposito! I love you dearly, but you can be so Neanderthal."

"Hey, maybe that's WHY you love me."

The bathroom door swooshed open again. "Why does she love you?"

"Hey, Kevin, we're talking about your next little bundle of joy. If it's a boy, you still thinking of calling some little Irish baby Javier?"

Jenny answered, tears in her voice again. "We were talking about that on the way here. We both like the name Richard."

"Rick is a good, strong name" Esposito responded, his voice quavering slightly. "Loyal. Smart." The outer door closed.

Beckett, who'd been drifting in and out, hearing most but processing little of the conversation, thought '_That's a great name. Richard Ryan. Sounds like a Broadway actor_.'

A short time later, she heard Esposito calling her. "Beckett! Hey, earth to Beckett. Wake up!"

Her eyes opened reluctantly, as if they'd been lightly glued shut. She looked around. Same room. Same Esposito. If possible, she felt worse than she did prior to her nap. She looked at the room's only other occupant. "Oh, sorry." She rubbed her face vigorously, removed some sleepers from her eyes, then extricated herself from the reclined chair. "What can I get you, Javi?"

"Well, for starters, you can stop snoring. If you could also reach my pitcher of ice chips, I'd appreciate it." He pointed to his rolling tray table, pushed out of his reach.

"Sure." She rolled the table in front of him. "And I don't snore."

"Beckett, everybody snores, and everybody denies snoring, like it's some god-awful thing." He'd poured his ice water, and was now staring intently at Beckett's eyes. "It's a condition of life. Everyone is born. Everybody pays taxes. Everybody dreams of sex. Everybody snores. Everybody dies."

The last two words had been said just a bit too casually. "Cut it out, Javi. Okay? Just don't. I'm not in the mood."

He nodded his head. "Okay. At least tell me how the hearing went today."

"It was a farce from beginning to end. The only ones that didn't really know what was going on were the three suspects and some desk jockeys. The other suspects had been cleared by that Justice lawyer, Miller. He'd have made a good homicide man."

"So? Who was it?"

"Oh, sorry. The detective out of Robbery, Boling. Demming found his prints where they shouldn't have been." Beckett made it sound like it wasn't a big deal.

"Great! Chalk up another win for Team Alpha."

"Is that your take away, Esposito? Another win for Team Alpha? I hate to break it to you, Buddy, but we got our asses handed to us."

"What are you talking about? Six guys including the mechanic involved, six taken down, and all within 24 hours." Esposito was still watching her intently.

She knew she was being goaded. Not just provoked, but provoked by an expert, one who knew her far too well. Still, she couldn't help herself. "Was it worth it, Javi? Was it?" She looked pointedly at his missing limb, and then back at Esposito. "You lost your leg. I lost … him."

Esposito's hand snaked out and grasped Beckett's thin wrist. "Say his name, Kate. Come on! SAY HIS NAME!"

"CASTLE, OKAY? RICHARD EDGAR CASTLE!" She had to look at the ceiling and take a second, to swallow back the tears. "Happy? His name was Rick! And now he's gone!"

"You do not have a monopoly on grief, Kate. We all loved him, and we'll all miss him. He was a great member of the team."

"A member of the … ?" Beckett was flabbergasted. "How can you even think that? He was so much more than JUST ONE OF US COPS. He was a GREAT MAN. We're all just a bunch of sewer workers, cleaning up the slime at the bottom of this cesspool. But he ... he changed lives! What's it matter what our team does, if we get a freaking win? There's always going to be another body. There's always going to be someone who kills because they weren't rich enough, or safe enough, or didn't get enough hugs as a child. Richard Castle made a difference! What we should have been doing is protecting him. THAT was our job. Another win for Team Alpha? You know what? We're going to go down in history as the team that got Richard Castle killed!"

"Don't you DARE say that!" Beckett had seen Esposito pissed often, and occasionally angry. She never remembered seeing him enraged, and certainly never at her. "We DID change lives. We saved lives! Our team has done more than any other team in the history of the NYPD. We fought corruption and evil and wickedness, and we WON! If I die tomorrow, I die knowing I accomplished something in my life, because I was part of this team. YOUR team, Beckett! This is MY legacy, and I won't have you dismiss it because our last arrest went fubar.

Esposito was still yelling, but juxtaposed to his fury were the tears now coursing down his cheeks. "When I was in foster care, I thought I learned about how to be a man, but I was clueless. In Special Forces, I thought I learned about service and responsibility and how to depend on teammates and have them depend on you, but I didn't really know. You know WHO taught me those things? YOU DID!"

He grabbed her wrist and with both hands, pulling himself off the pillow "You and Castle and Ryan taught me how to be a part of something that was more than a bunch of people. You taught me about love, and sacrifice, and family. You taught me that you don't fight evil with evil, you fight it right! By caring. By being more than you've ever been, because those that you love are counting on you. That you can count on others, and they won't let you down EVER, because they love you too. You guys have taught me every important lesson I've ever learned – what's important in life, and why. Castle knew it, too and BELIEVED it.. Just ONE OF US COPS? Damn straight. YOU better believe it."

The older nurse came in and half-shouted, "What in the world is going on in here? Miss, you let him go! I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Now."

Esposito let go of Beckett, and sank back into his pillow, spent. Beckett turned and walked past the nurse, who started fussing with Esposito's pillows. Beckett opened the door and held it, turning back to look at Esposito. "Hurry up and get better, Javi. They need you back on the job."

Even with the drugs and the pain and the roiling emotions, Esposito was far too good a detective to miss the use of the pronoun. 'They need you', not 'We need you'. He could hear the finality in her voice. Team Alpha was disbanded, his family broken. He looked up at the ceiling, coming to grips with his over-powering feeling of loss. Fresh tears glistened on his cheeks as he looked at Beckett and nodded. Message sent and received.

She returned the nod and turned to leave. From behind her she heard Esposito call in a loud voice through his tears, "Vaya con Dios, Katherine Beckett! God Bless You."

The door shut softly behind her.


	18. Chapter 18

**Thursday 1:41 pm**

**The Loft**

The cab ride from the hospital took no time at all. It seemed that no sooner had she given the cabbie the address of the loft, she was paying him and dragging herself out of the rear seat. The taxi was triple parked just down from her building. As she emerged, the first thing she noticed was a publicity poster of Castle hung on a kiosk being built almost directly in front of their building. Above it was the logo and name of Black Pawn Publishing, and beneath it were a myriad of bright pictures, letters, book covers, and flowers stuck in chicken wire attached to the plywood side. A long line of people, mostly women, stretched off to her right down the sidewalk. Most were clutching items in their hands, and some were openly weeping.

She stared at Castle's poster. She felt a by-now familiar pain, as if her heart had been pricked with a pin. The pain was on every level. Emotional. Physical. Spiritual. With every reminder of Castle's existence her heart felt the pinprick, and reminders were everywhere. She averted her eyes, only to see another picture of him held by a woman in line. Another pinprick to the heart. She sighed, and started towards the door. She barely heard the comments and shouts coming from the back of the line. "Yo! Lady! Line starts back there." "Hey. Isn't that Nikki Heat?" "I think so. Over here, Nikki!" "No, couldn't be. Just look at her." "Back of the line, lady."

She fought her way through the line with the help of the doorman, and entered the lobby. She started for the elevator, every step more reluctant than the last. She knew the reason for her hesitancy. It was pure, unadulterated fear. She'd never considered herself particularly brave, but neither did she think herself a coward. She'd managed to do what was needed to be done when it became necessary. Yet, she was now terrified of facing Martha and Alexis, and wasn't sure if she actually could go through with it.

The elevator door opened and she stepped in and pushed the button for their floor (_pinprick_). When she'd faced obstacles or dangers in the past, she'd been able to overcome them with fortitude. Intelligence. Good defense and training. How do you face something when you don't have a plan? When you're actions are indefensible? When you're in the wrong and guilt-ridden? How do you console a mother and daughter when you yourself are inconsolable?

She walked down the hallway and inserted the key in the lock (_pinprick_). She opened the door and glanced around. She was inundated with memories of her Castle, and felt her heart being gently filleted. She took a stuttering breath and called out "Martha?" Getting no response, she moved to the foot of the steps and shouted "Martha!" Nothing.

She looked around to make sure there was no luggage in view. Martha's plane should have arrived over two hours ago, so Beckett had no idea where she might be. She took out her phone and turned it on for the first time since the meeting this morning at the 3rd Precinct. After a second, the screen came alive, informing her she had 37 missed calls. She scrolled down the list, but didn't see Martha's name. Nor Alexis' name. A majority of the calls were from Lanie and her Dad, with the remaining few from friends and acquaintances.

Not wanting to deal with anything, now or in the foreseeable future, she turned off the cell and walked through Rick's office (_a whole pincushion full of pinpricks_) into their bedroom. (_Oh my God! She couldn't bear this!) _Panic began to seize her. (_She needed to escape! Run! Now!)_ She stripped off all her clothing in record time, leaving it strewn everywhere, and dove into the shower. She turned on all the nozzles on full, turned up the heat, and put her face under the stream of water.

She quickly realized, like every other decision she'd made in the last 24 hours, this shower was a horrible idea. The memories of her shower with Castle yesterday morning, before the interview with Mi-Hi Crane, came flooding back. The laughter. The banter. The slow and passion-filled love making. Beckett slowly collapsed to the tiles, bent her head to her knees, and surrendered to the crushing pain.

She had no idea how long she remained there, wrapped in her desolation. She realized the water was cooling noticeably, and the loft had a big water heater. She stood and scrubbed off her tears. Now the emotion overwhelming her was panic. She was completely overwhelmed. By the time she'd washed her hair and scrubbed her skin feverishly, the water was ice cold. She stepped out, vigorously dried her abused skin, and took the brush and blow dryer to her hair furiously. She strode to her dresser and quickly donned bra, panties, an old pair of jeans, and an old comfortable pullover. She was, literally, running for her life. Retrieving her current book from her nightstand, she marched into the office and snagged a bottled water from the small office fridge.

Beckett sat in the big desk chair, smelling Castle's musk (_pinprick_) in the leather. She turned on the desk lamp, and tucked her feet beneath her. She had no idea if this was going to work. It was a totally different dynamic than sixteen years ago. All she knew is that she was not going to survive if she didn't find a way to coexist with this new reality. She closed her eyes, and begged whatever deities that were tuned in to help her. She was as close to her breaking point as she'd ever been, and was scared to death. She took a large drink of water, and then opened her book. She put the Nikki Heat bookmark (_pinprick_) on the desk and began to read. '_Chapter Seven. For Nikki Heat everything became about calculations. Panic had no place except to get her killed. As odds go, they sucked, but keeping her head . . . ._

_Chapter Eight_

_Chapter Nine_

_Chapter Ten_

_Chapter Eleven . . . It needed a big update, but the foundation was all right there. Heat turned back to Rook and said, 'Well? Are you interested or not?'' _

A sound in the doorway, and Beckett looked up. Martha stood there, leaning against the door jamb, displaying a very slight smile. "Richard had said he wanted to be immortal."


	19. Chapter 19

**Thursday 4:14 pm**

**The Loft**

Martha said, "Richard had said he wanted to be immortal."

"Oh! Martha, I didn't hear you come in." Despite Martha's upraised hand, Beckett extricated herself from the chair, and slid around the desk to hug the older woman. She pulled back to arms length, and began, "Martha, I'm so sor …".

Martha hushed her by firmly placing two fingers over Beckett's lips. "Katherine. I need to speak with you, but I don't have a lot of time now. I have my marching orders. We'll talk tonight, but I need your help with something immediately."

"Anything, Martha."

"Did you see what was going on outside?" Martha was visibly upset.

"Outside where?"

"They are selling Richard's books out on the sidewalk. Out of a little stand, like hot dogs or pretzels! They are advertising advanced sales to his biography! A biography written by, of all people, Gina Cowell! There are television cameras down there taking it all in. There are women overacting for the cameras, expressing their undying love for my son."

"I take it that's not normal?" Beckett had never understood the publicity side of Castle's career, and he had sheltered her from most of the craziness.

"It's so far over the top, it's … it's … it's Mt Everest!" In Beckett's experience, Martha Rogers was NEVER at a loss for words. This was serious.

"What can I do?"

"Do you have Gina's number? I need that circus removed before Alexis arrives."

"I don't, but I'm sure it's on Castle's computer. Give me a minute." She slid back around the desk. She noticed she actually felt a little better. Apparently, five chapters of Nikki Heat was what she'd needed. She took a deep breath. She wasn't normal by any means, but she wasn't in the midst of a panic attack. It was nice to be doing something. Anything.

She turned on the computer monitor. When it lit up, she gasped. Her eyes flew wide. Stomach bile rose so fast up to the back of her throat she had to clap her palm over her mouth to keep it in. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. A small squeak of distress escaped her lips.

"Katherine. What's wrong?" Martha stepped around the desk. Castle's screen saver marched across the screen. 'YOU SHOULD BE WRITING. YOU SHOULD BE WRITING.' Castle's Mom spun the desk chair around to face her. She put her arms on the outside of Beckett's biceps, and started rubbing her arms up and down, from shoulder to elbow, as if warming her. "Katherine, dear. KATHERINE!" Beckett wide eyes finally looked into Martha's eyes. "Please. I need your help!"

Beckett finally nodded and turned back around, swallowing down the awful taste, carefully moving the mouse before looking up at the monitor. A picture of her and Castle at the Hamptons was the background. The picture had been taken on Alexis' cell phone as they walked the beach one evening. She remembered every detail of that magical day vividly.

It was at that precise moment that Beckett realized she was not going to make it. She would not survive this. She would exert a monumental effort, continue on as well as possible, to help her family and loved ones over the next few days. Make sure that Lanie was good to check on her Dad, and that Alexis and Martha were in as good a place as possible. Just a few more days, but after that all bets were off. She'd given away too much of herself to be able to exist on what little was left. Too much of her heart. Too much of her soul. She'd relied too heavily on her partner, so that she had as much chance of living without him as she did to live without air.

It was the classic paradox. Two locked boxes, each key inside the other, unreachable behind the unopenable lid. The only person who could possibly help her, on the whole planet, was Castle. The reason she needed help was she had orchestrated Castle's death. Re-joining Castle was the only alternative she could see. Strangely, the realization gave her no peace. Tears filled her eyes and leaked, unchecked, down her cheeks. She bent over the keyboard and carefully typed his password: 'A1ways!'

The User ID and Password boxes were replaced by a multitude of icons, filling the screen. Beckett peered through her blurred vision, looking for the right box. Castle sure liked his toys. Finding the electronic rolodex, she clicked it, scrolled down to 'Cowell, Gina' and clicked that. At the pop-up box she clicked the Call option and checked the Speaker box. A tissue box appeared in front of Kate, courtesy of Martha, and Beckett grabbed a couple.

From a flat speaker on the big desk emanated a couple of clicks, and then one ring, followed by a second. Before the third, a voice spoke. "This is Gina Cowell. Who's this?"

"Gina, it's Martha Rogers."

"Martha. I saw the caller ID and I got a little spooked. I'm so sorry about Richard. Listen, I'm a little late for a meeting. Can I call you back?"

"No, you can't call me back! Gina, there's an outlandish display featuring my son and his books outside, and a very unruly crowd. Alexis will be here …."

"Oh, isn't it great? We have to make the most of this terrible …"

"NO. It's NOT great! Alexis' plane lands in a few minutes. I need you take that … that hot dog stand down now."

"Martha, you just don't understand business. Richard never did either. Timing is critical in this industry. Listen. I'm truly sorry about Richard. I loved him too. But we must soldier on. I promise you, maintaining your income stream is my top priority. I've already started interviewing ghost writers for the biography. Let's just leave this to the professionals, shall we?"

"Gina, I will not have my granddaughter subjected to that mob. Take it down. Now."

"Martha, I'm sorry. There's really nothing you can do. We have all the permits necessary."

Beckett had been watching Martha during the whole conversation. She seemed to age before her eyes, frustration and disbelief adding years to her face. She looked beseechingly at Kate, so Kate leaned forward, "Gina. It's Kate Beckett."

A five second delay, followed by, "You unspeakable bitch! Do you have ANY idea what you've done? How many years you've taken away from us?"

Martha looked at Beckett with alarm, but Kate was nodding. She replied, "Yea. I have a pretty good idea." Anguish etched her features, but her voice was even.

"This isn't funny, you gold digging slut. I am going to make sure our lawyers sue you and your precious police force into oblivion."

Beckett was still even voiced. In the great scheme of things, Gina was barely a blip on her radar. "So, can I assume you won't be removing that little memorial thing you've got going on down in front?"

"Fuck you, you pig." Dial tone.

Martha looked ready to rush over and give Kate a hug, support her. Kate looked at Martha, and calmly held her palm up to keep the diva in her chair. She gave Martha a ghost of a smile and said, "This is what I do. I get idiots to say something stupid, and then shove it up their. . . behinds. This is almost too easy." She added,"I haven't been called a pig in ten years. It's so 1960's". What she didn't say was, Kate's opinion of Kate was a lot worse than Gina's opinion of Kate. No hug was going to help that. Ever.

Beckett scrolled through Castle's contact list, stopping on Vincent Black. She clicked the call button for his office. On the first ring, a young female voice answered, "Black Pawn Publishing, Vincent Black's office."

Beckett requested "Vincent Black, please."

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Black's in a meeting. Would you like to speak to his voice mail?"

"No. I want Mr Black. In person. This is an emergency."

"Who's calling, please?"

"Richard Castle."

"Excuse me?"

"Do you have caller ID? If so, check it, and then get Mr Black on the phone. Right away. It's Richard Castle calling." Kate never raised her voice, but the urgency was conveyed thru her tone and diction. After no more than a minute, Vincent Black's voice emerged from the speaker.

"Who is this?"

"Kate Beckett."

"Oh my goodness. Kate! I am so sorry for your loss! Tragic! If there's ANYTHING Black Pawn, or I personally, can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask." Black had always loved Richard Castle and enjoyed Kate the few times they'd met at functions. More importantly, he was CEO and founder, Gina's boss's boss. Most importantly, he was a humanitarian and a very decent human being.

"Mr Black. Were you aware that I have complete power of attorney for Rick's estate?"

"Kate, please call me Vince. And no, I wasn't aware of that. Why?"

"Because, as of six pm today, I'm severing all connection between Black Pawn and anything associated with either Nikki Heat or Derrick Storm, unless certain conditions are met."

Black sounded puzzled, not scared or mad. "That's you prerogative, of course. I hope we can keep our association, though. Your conditions?"

Beckett's voice was still in that deadly monotone that she'd used during the entirety of her deposition this morning. "One. The kiosk with the memorial and book store is removed from the front of our building within the hour. Certainly before Alexis Castle sees it."

"What kiosk?"

"The one in front of this building with your name on it. The one selling books and advertising coming biographies. We'll get to that. Number two. No biography of Richard Castle will be published without express permission and approval from Martha Rogers."

Martha, who'd been brightening, little by little, during this conversation, leaned in and said "Hi, Vince."

"Hello, Martha. What I said to Kate applies to you too, you know, whether or not we're still your publisher. Rick was a good friend. If you need anything . . . "

"Thank you, Vince. That means a lot to me."

"Kate? We're not in the habit of printing unauthorized biographies, and would be very aggressive trying to block anybody else from doing so."

"Thank you, Vince. Number Three. Gina Cowell has absolutely nothing to do with us or our business again."

"Uh, Kate? Is this personal? I'm actually in a meeting with her and her boss now. I know she and Rick had a history. Are you sure …"

"Vince, we're kind of pressed for time. If you could put me on speakerphone, I'll replay you the conversation we had with Gina ten minutes ago."

Vince said "okay' while Martha actually SMILED and asked, "You can do that?"

Beckett nodded and answered Martha, "Yes. This is all voice over IP. Castle hated to take notes. Vince, are you ready?"

Still puzzled, he said "Sure, Kate."

Beckett selected the top recording in the history file, hit play, and Gina's voice could be heard. Re-heard. "This is Gina Cowell. Who's this?" "Gina, it's Martha Rogers."

As soon as the replay began, sounds could be overheard on top of the recording, Gina's voice raised in complaint. The sound from the conference room cut off suddenly, leaving only the recording being replayed. God bless 'Mute' buttons.

Martha whispered, "Can they hear us?"

Kate leaned forward and pressed their own 'Mute' button. "No, not any more." She turned down the volume on the speaker.

"This is wonderful. You called it a voice over?"

"Voice over IP."

"I did a voice over once. It was for a Japanese film. It was atrocious. " Beckett looked at Martha, incredulous. She had no idea if the actress was pulling her leg or not. Regardless, the attempt at levity was appreciated. Then Martha asked "Can anybody listen to any previous calls from this house?" She looked alarmed.

Beckett shook her head. "Don't worry. Only calls that were made from this desk." Martha instantly looked relieved. She looked at Rick's Mom. She was so, so, spectacularly … Martha! "Martha, what marching orders?"

"Excuse me, Dear?"

"You said you had your 'Marching Orders'. From whom?"

"Richard, of course! That boy has given me a list a mile long." Beckett began to wonder if Martha was taking a little break from reality, or at least, more so than normal. If so, Beckett was jealous. Reality sucked. Martha continued, "I was supposed to make sure you ate and to give you your letter. I picked up your favorite soup and sandwich from the deli. It's on the kitchen counter. I also arranged for the car to pick up Alexis once she clears customs. I'm supposed to be back at the lawyers' in about five minutes, but there was no way on earth I was going to let Alexis be subjected to that spectacle out front."

"So Alexis is coming here? Is Meredith with her?"

"We had to pull a lot of strings to get Alexis on a flight today. Meredith will follow tomorrow. If it's still on time, Alexis should have landed 10 minutes ago. I need to get back to the attorney's, and then I'll meet the two of you back here around eight. I'm bringing dinner. What's taking these people so long?"

The playback had ended a minute ago. Beckett turned the volume back up on the speaker, then pressed the 'Mute' button. She ventured, "Vince, are you still there?"

After a notable delay, Black's voice came back. He'd apparently taken them off of the speaker phone. There was a faint commotion in the background. "Kate. The memorial for Rick, minus the sales kiosk, is being relocated to the sidewalk here in front of Black Pawn. We can't get over there in time, but there's a moving company practically around the corner. They said they'll have it loaded up in the next 15 minutes. We'll give everybody over there still in line vouchers for free books for their inconvenience.

"Number two. No biography will be published, or even contemplated, without talking to Martha. If she wants, she can ghost write it."

Remembering Martha's one woman show, Beckett wasn't sure that was such a good idea. She asked, "What about Gina?"

Black's voice went from apologetic to glacial. "Gina who?"

Martha spoke up. "Thanks so much, Vince. We have to run, but I'll get back to you on that ghost writing idea."

"I am truly sorry for your loss, and for causing any additional difficulties for you two. Don't hesitate to call if we can do anything else."

"Thanks, Vince. Bye"

"Bye."

Martha looked up at Kate. "Thank you so much for your help, Katherine. Things will get easier, I promise. Now follow me. Let's get a little food in you." Both got up and went to the kitchen, where Kate found a sandwich and bowl of hot, or at least warm, soup.

Beckett said, "Thank you, Martha. I'm really not that hungry now. What I really need is to speak with you". Beckett's voice was pleading, urgent. What she actually wanted to ask was, 'Please explain to me how to tell your granddaughter that I choreographed her father's murder.'

"I'm sorry, Katherine. I have my instructions. You eat, you read the letter, than we can talk. Not before. The letter is on the coffee table in front of the couch. With tissues, since I know my son. Alexis has to clear customs, even if she came back empty-handed, so it'll be at least an hour before she gets here." Martha waited until Beckett actually sat down and started eating before giving her a sideways hug and turning for the door. "See you at eight, Kiddo."

Beckett ate mechanically, not tasting the food. All she could think about was the coming conversation. _Alexis was what? Maybe 18 months older than I was when I lost my Mom. So, how would I have felt if Coogan came and tried to console me less than 24 hours after my Mom had been pronounced dead? Actually, that wasn't fair to Coogan. He'd actually killed my Mom, but Bracken orchestrated it. What could Bracken have said to me back then that would have made me feel better. Maybe, if he'd killed himself right then in front of me, that might have helped. It certainly couldn't have hurt. __Maybe, once I've made absolutely sure Alexis knows how abysmally I failed her father, she'd appreciate a little theatre. A little street justice._

Beckett was surprised to find the sandwich and soup consumed. She didn't fill full. On the contrary, she felt totally empty. Hollow. She slipped off the stool and shuffled over to the couch. When she saw the envelope, she snatched it quickly. Her initials were on it, **_KB_**, in Castle's distinctive cursive. She had expected some letter from a lawyer, but this was from Rick! Her Castle! She sat and pulled back the flap with shaky fingers. The pages were all hand written! That was amazing in and of itself – Castle would type a grocery list if he could. She drew her feet up on the couch and began to read.

**A/N: YEA! I get to throw my least favorite character under the bus. Please review, or at least let me know your tissue count.**


End file.
